


Venimus, Vidimus, Amavimus

by anniebumblebee



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Badass Beth Greene, Canon Rewrite, Dog Parents Daryl and Beth, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, I don't know how to tag!, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Male-Female Friendship, More tags to be added, Not Canon Compliant, Older Man/Younger Woman, POV Beth Greene, bethyl, its my au I GET TO DECIDE THE HEIGHT DIFFERENCE, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-26
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-01-03 22:24:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 21
Words: 103,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21186974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anniebumblebee/pseuds/anniebumblebee
Summary: REWRITE OF SAME STORY ON MY ACCOUNT - UNDER THE SAME NAME.After the farm fell, Beth Greene escapes the destruction alongside Daryl Dixon - the quiet, intimidating man she avoided because of his gruff demeanor and violent outbursts. Unable to find the rest of their group, they set off together in an attempt to survive in a world of death and destruction, soon realizing that they only have each other. As Beth learns to live in the world she had tried to escape and Daryl deals with the ghosts of his past, their feelings for one another become an unstoppable force - and that scares them more than the monstrous world they're stuck in.Venimus, Vidimus, Amavimus - We came, we saw, we loved





	1. The Fall

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, y'all! If you are a reader that has been with me since the beginning, welcome to the rewrite of Venimus, Vidimus, Amavimus - thank you for sticking with me and being willing to sit and wait while I rewrite this story for myself. If you are new, welcome to Venimus, Vidimus, Amavimus! You DO NOT have to read the old version of this to understand this one, this is just a rewrite, a fresh start for my mind essentially because I knew that I could do better. 
> 
> Some important things: 
> 
> 1\. This is a fix-it for Beth and Daryl's storylines because I, like many others, think both characters deserved better.  
2\. Beth and Daryl escape from the farm instead of the prison together, they will be alone together for a few years before reuniting with the group. I did this because I thought it would be interesting to see how the two characters could have interacted if they had been stuck together earlier on in their character archs.  
3\. They will both go through some dark times, so if that is not your thing I will ALWAYS put warnings in front of chapters that will tell you if it contains any triggers or harsh material.  
4\. This is a very slow burn, I apologize.  
5\. Most importantly! Beth Greene is supposed to be sixteen when she is introduced in season two. I bumped her up to seventeen in this story because this is a SLOW burn - I'm talking years, ya'll. She will be eighteen or nineteen when she and Daryl begin their relationship.  
I'm not about that underage life. Is an age-gap alright? Hell yeah. Is a minor getting it on with an adult alright? Nope. Just because I'm kind of nervous about this, I aged Daryl down a bit too - he's around twenty-five to thirty in this story.  
6\. If you have any ideas, advice, or just want to say hi, please message me or leave a comment. I think the best part of me writing these kinds of stories will be your enjoyment of them - knowing that someone is reading and enjoying this will really make it all worth it.
> 
> ONCE AGAIN - Thank you for putting up with me while I rewrite this story, if you don't like it I am sorry, but I feel like I need to rewrite it for myself because I know personally that I can do better for readers. 
> 
> As you can probably tell, the first few chapters will be the same, the changes to the story will come later.
> 
> \- Bee

**DISCLAIMER: Referenced Suicide Attempt/Suicidal Thoughts **

Beth Greene liked to think that she was still that young girl who believed that the walking, rotting corpses were just sick people in need of a cure. She would like to believe that her family members, neighbors, and childhood friends that Otis and her father had locked in their barn would get better, that this was just a simple bug going around that would pass. She so wanted to believe that these monstrous ghosts of people who were once alive were still inherently _ human _because it would make living so much easier. But that girl had died when the shell of her mother had tried to take a chunk out of her neck, when she watched her older brother take multiple bullets without flinching. No, that girl had died in the bathroom of her childhood home nearly a week ago, when she had decided that taking her life was easier than accepting the fact that the world she had known had ended. That there was no going back. 

So, she silently watched as her home, the place where her daddy had taught her to ride a bike, the place with the porch swing she and Shawn had broken because they wanted to see how high they could swing, the flower boxes her mama had let her paint before the summer of eighth grade, with little swirls of white paint and little blue flowers - she watched as it was overrun with monsters. What had Mr. Grimes’ group called them? _ Walkers. _

She had read somewhere that in times of stress, the human brain starts to see things in slow motion in order to process what was going on around them - like in the movies. Beth didn’t agree. By the time Patricia had let out a piercing scream and Beth had felt the hot gush of blood that ran down her arm from the bite in the woman’s neck - Beth was sure time was moving faster. It was like instead of her mind slowing down to process what was happening, to keep her awake and alive, it was speeding up, blurring through the moment so she wouldn’t have to see her family fall apart before her very eyes. She felt numb to the world around her, the sounds muted, the feeling of the grass beneath her shoes squishy and uneven. She did not remember if she had screamed when Patricia fell, all Beth could see was the silent look of acceptance that had passed over the woman’s face when she fell to her knees. 

With the focus on Patricia, the woman who had treated Beth like her own daughter since her mother’s accident, being ripped to shreds by a group of rotting humans, she didn’t feel the sharp pop of her ankle caused by her lousy pink sneakers slipping on the wet grass. Was it wet from blood or dew, she wondered? 

Lori continued to pull her along, her hands slick with sweat. With _ fear_, Beth thought. She tried to force her mind to process the chaos around her, the barn ablaze, her daddy’s shotgun sounding off somewhere in the distance, a piercing scream that echoed throughout the hilly valley. Was it her? 

Beth slammed face-first into something hard - something warm. She had started to move away, thinking it was a walker and opening her mouth to let out a scream that would greet her death when Lori’s hands grabbed a hold of her shoulders and shook violently. It wasn’t until her feet had stopped moving and her heartbeat slowed just the tiniest bit that she felt the awful pain in her ankle, sharp and agonizing. The sudden onslaught of pain had caused a fine layer of sweat to appear on Beth’s skin, her face to contort in absolute pain. Lori seemed to pay no mind, shouting something that Beth couldn’t make out and shoving something heavy and cold into her hands before running off into the dark. Beth was alone. 

She tried to yell for Lori to come back, her voice hoarse and weak from screaming, but it was almost as if the pain had released her from a trance. The numbness she had felt, the confusion, was gone; replaced by a burning and awful pain that pulsed up her entire leg. Every emotion seemed to rage through her chest all at once and she could do nothing to stop it. She wanted to scream at Lori for being so stupid, for running off alone in the dark - but instead, she screamed for Lori not to go, not to leave her alone. 

Beth heard the rumble of a familiar truck engine before she saw it, the violent growl of the ancient motor sputtering against the driver’s insistence to go. The sound of her daddy’s truck was ingrained in her head, it seemed. She could recognize the familiar hiccups of the engine anywhere. Hershel Greene used to enjoy going on early drives around the fields, always saying it was a good way to clear his head before a long day of hard work. When Beth was little, she always woke up at the sound of her daddy’s truck and would hurry out into the morning light in her nightgown and slippers to go with him. She had even chased his truck down the road a few times, teddy bear in hand. It had started to become a ritual of theirs, sitting in the silence of the car and watching the sun come up over the hills, Beth occasionally humming a tune she had just learned in church. When her father asked why she was so insistent on going with him every morning, she just shook her pigtails and said it’s_ not good to be alone. _

Beth thought of this as she watched the rusty pickup truck drive off into the distance, tires smoking and squealing, but it was too far away for her to chase after. Was her daddy driving? Did he remember to look out his rearview mirror to check for Beth in her pajamas, as mama had told him? 

Did her family think she was already dead? Was anyone even looking for her? Had they given up on her that quickly? She suddenly felt very alone. 

She moved in the direction Lori had gone, moving towards the truck, screaming and waving her arms for them to just _wait._ Instead, blinding pain gripped her entire body like a vice, her ankle had suddenly given out from underneath her and had left her sprawled out in the grass. Whatever Lori had gifted her had flown from her hands and landed a few feet in the grass in front of her. 

It was a pistol. 

It was ironic really, that she had been left alone in the middle of a goddamn field surrounded by hundreds of walkers with a weapon she had no idea how to use. She didn’t even know how to check if it was loaded or not. The metal looked unforgiving and bleak against the dark green grass of her family’s home. She had politely refused Mr. Walsh’s lessons on how to shoot a gun, following her daddy’s orders. She really regretted that decision right now. 

So, the same hand that had held the broken mirror only a week ago, so sure of itself and its intentions, reached for her last chance of survival. Lori wasn’t coming back for her, obviously. What had the woman said to her? To stay here? To run? To just give up and shoot herself? No, that was more Andrea’s style, apparently. 

She had pulled herself up onto her hands and knees, she felt her leg catch on something but paid no attention to it, instead, she focused on the feeling of her fingertips brushing against the barrel, _ nearly there _ when something heavy fell on top of her, shoving her face into the grass that somehow smelled like blood. Rotten hands latched onto her sweater, tearing into the fabric, getting ready to tear into her. 

She ignored the blinding pain searing up her leg, instead, she kicked and punched the body above her, pushing herself up enough to flip onto her back because _ no, not like this, please, not like this. _She screamed as the bloody teeth snapped at her face, her hand grasping for anything, anything that could save her. Her hand found the barrel of Lori’s pistol. 

She didn’t think to aim, just pointed the front of the gun in the direction of the walker’s face and fired. The body slumped against her, crushing her further into the dirt. Cold, chunky blood poured out into her face and chest. 

She could hear someone yelling for her in the distance, the voice deep and male, her dad? Jimmy? Maybe even Glenn, he seemed like the type to come back and save you. The voice called her name again, closer this time, but all she could do was scream. 

As she twisted and pushed in an attempt to move the rotting body on top of her, she saw a flash of blonde disappear into the trees somewhere to her right. Andrea had been left too. Was she the one screaming her name? Couldn’t she hear Beth screaming for help? She struggled to push the dead weight off of her chest, her arms shaking with effort, but found it impossible. The walker was a woman, well, was once a woman; her jaw hanging at an odd angle and the fresh bullet hole weeping blood onto Beth’s neck and face. Looking into her eyes, clouded and yellow with death, she wondered if there was a small chance that there was still a person in there somewhere, trapped and afraid like Beth was, that had just been set free. 

She worked faster as another walker began to stumble towards her, but it was no use. She was trapped. Just as the man lunged for her arm, his breath somehow sickly sweet, the tip of an arrow went through his temple. It made an awful _ squelch _ sound as it slid through his skull, his head collapsing like rotten fruit. 

She could do nothing but watch as her savior threw the walker on top of her off as if it was nothing, grabbing her hand in a harsh grip and pulling her up and off into the opposite direction of Andrea, of her daddy’s truck. But away from the monsters, away from the fresh graves that held the rotting corpses of her family. The pain in her ankle was nothing compared to the thought of someone coming back for her, to the sound of his voice, leading her off into the woods. 

“Run, Beth!” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Beth had lost track of how long they had been running, any sense of time or direction was lost to her hours ago, to the crippling pain in her leg, to the awful smell of rotten, sticky blood that was covering her face. The only thing she was sure of was the sight of Daryl’s wings that were sewn onto the back of his vest and the sound of leaves crunching beneath their feet. Her steps had become erratic and a blistering burn had settled into her lungs, making each breath a chore. 

Each step was nearly agonizing, not only was she sure her ankle was sprained - maybe even broken, the cheap sneakers she had bought on sale before the turn was not properly worn in and were beginning to rub the worst blisters on her feet. She had long stopped paying attention to the blood that was beginning to soak through the pretty pink fabric - she was planning on burning them later, even if it meant she was barefoot. 

She had nearly run face-first into Daryl’s back after he had almost been taken out by a rogue branch, it caused her to stumble and nearly fall onto the mossy floor - but she grit her teeth and kept going. There seemed to be no discernable path they were following, though Daryl seemed to have some idea of where they were going. All of the trees had started to look the same to Beth, they could have been going in circles for all she knew. The man could be leading her out into the wilderness to kill her, she had seen _ Criminal Minds _ before the turn, it wasn’t impossible. 

But she kept following, not because he had saved her from certain death, but because they were running away from _there_. The ruins of her childhood home and the screams of her family as they were torn apart. She would have followed anyone if it meant she never had to see the front of her house again. 

Although she was pushing her body to keep going, she still felt as if she was about to collapse - if the black dots spinning on the edge of her vision meant anything. It seemed like the hunter was pushing through, or else he was really good at hiding his exhaustion, but from what she knew of the man, which was nearly nothing, it was most likely the second option. She zeroed in on the blood that had begun to run down his right cheek, split open and angry from a shallow cut on his cheekbone. She wondered if it would need stitches. 

But by paying so much attention to her partner’s injury, her precarious footing failed her and she tumbled into the leaves. 

“Daryl!” Her voice was harsh, even to her own ears, more like a shrill scream the quiet, song-like voice she was known for. Even so, the man kept running and she watched desperately as the angel wings started leaving her behind. 

“Don’t leave me, please!” 

The wings came to a screeching halt, Daryl spinning around with his crossbow loaded as if she had yelled_ walker _ and seemed shocked to see her lying on the ground, alone. The cold dirt felt almost euphoric, the mud soaking through her clothes helped simmer the burning in her chest. He suddenly stepped towards her then, as if to grab her arms to pull her back up and keep going - it would have been easy, she only weighed a hundred pounds, at most. He could have slung her over his shoulder and trekked on to wherever the hell they were going, which was fine with Beth, as long as she wasn’t alone. 

But she watched as he scanned down her blood-soaked sneakers and clothes, her dirty, bloody face, and the leaves and sticks she was sure were tangled in her hair and suddenly fell to his knees beside her. It was then that Beth noticed how tired Daryl looked - when she remembered him volunteering to take Glenn’s watch shift the night before everything went to hell after Dale had died. She felt as if she couldn’t complain, because although she was in pain, she wasn’t severely sleep-deprived. 

So, she watched as Daryl Dixon fell to his knees near her head, whether from exhaustion or pity for her, she didn’t know. They laid there together, completely quiet, blinking up into the canopy of trees that were just beginning to show the first signs of daylight. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

By the time Beth had regained control of her senses, the sun was high up in the cloudless blue sky. Daryl had already started to stir, adjusting his boots and fiddling with his crossbow - something she had noticed he did when he was worried about something, she often caught him playing with the strings and bolts during group discussions. 

She had whispered to him sometime after he had laid down to go to sleep, that she would watch and wake him up if anything happened. She had expected resistance, for him to laugh at her offer and tell her that they needed to keep going, but was shocked when he rolled onto his back and passed out. He had quietly pushed his hunting knife closer to her hands. _ Just in case,_ it said to her. 

A spark of _ something _ had fluttered in her stomach when he had offered it to her, the knife nearly the size of her forearm and so heavy that it hurt the tendons in her wrist to pick up with one hand. She wondered if that was what it felt like for someone to trust you with their safety, for them to know that you would watch their back while they were vulnerable. She didn’t know if she liked that feeling or not, truly, it terrified her. 

Sometime after he had passed out, while she had been playing with the knife lying on the mossy dirt with the tips of her fingers had she thought of Lori’s gun. She reached for the waistband of her jeans and felt nothing - she guessed that neither of them had picked the pistol back up in their mad dash for the woods. She hoped the woman wasn’t too attached to it. She didn’t seem like the type.

As the sound of Daryl’s breathing grew steadier, she started to wonder who had gotten out of the farm unscathed. Her dad? Maggie? Glenn? Carl? Carl was just a baby. She hoped that he was safe with his parents, that they were together. 

Were any members of their group together? Or had they all just scattered? She listed off every name, trying to visualize everyone on the farm when it fell. She didn’t know why she did it, but she felt as if calling the names out in her head, out into the void, kept them alive and safe - at least to her. 

As the hours passed and Daryl continued to sleep, Beth began to pray. She wasn’t really in the traditional position for praying, she supposed. On her back sprawled out like a starfish, covered in blood, but she prayed anyway. She was never the religious type, only ever really attending church because her parents loved it so much - loved the community and support it provided. Beth was never so sure. 

But she prayed anyway. She prayed for all of her friends and family, even Patricia and Dale, hoping that her daddy was right about heaven. She thought those two deserved it. 

Beth was drawn out of her thoughts as she watched Daryl tightened the shoelaces on his boots and jumped when his rough voice cut through the comforting silence between them. 

“We need to keep going, we’re headin' towards the highway.” 

She had also noticed that Daryl lacked the ability to give useful information. You had to know how to deconstruct a coded sentence to understand what the man was on about sometimes. 

“Why the highway?” She winced as she sat up on her elbows, her voice barely audible because it was so hoarse. Had she been screaming last night? “Is everyone going to be there? Did you guys set a meeting place or something?” 

He had the audacity to look annoyed at her question. 

“Where we left supplies for the little girl,” he grumbled, pushing himself up onto his feet with not even a wince. 

Anger burned inside Beth’s chest then. She _ hated _ it when people referred to Sophia as ‘little girl.’ Mr. Walsh seemed to be the worst at that. Beth had not known the little girl, only the tiny corpse Carol had sobbed over that day, but Sophia was a person who deserved the respect of saying her name, the respect of acknowledging her life and her death. Carol deserved that respect. 

“You mean _ Sophia _?” Was it petty of her? Yes. Did she care? Not really. Daryl hummed in response, but she noticed he didn’t meet her eyes for a while after that. 

“Can ya get up on your own?” He asked, swinging the strap of his crossbow over his shoulders. Could she? It felt as if her entire body had given up on itself as if she would never be able to get up again. Besides the throbbing pain in her ankle and the ache in her chest, it was like she had gone numb. She was an empty shell of mourning and exhaustion - and she had been for a while. She wondered what she looked like, sprawled out in the mud, covered in blood, the bandage starting to peel off her arm, the color of rotten blood. The stitches had popped hours ago, but she refused to acknowledge it. She probably looked like a character out of one of those awful horror movies Shawn and Maggie forced her to watch while they babysat, but then again, they were in a horror movie. 

She hadn’t shed a tear since Patricia had been ripped from her hands, from the shock of it all, she assumed, but that hadn’t stopped the horrible ache in her chest and the constant lump in her throat. What was the point of getting up now? She had no idea who had made it out, what if no one from her family was left? Although she liked the group from Atlanta, they weren’t her family. She wanted to feel her daddy’s arms around her shoulders, whispering into her ear and calling her Junebug. She wanted to see Maggie’s face when she realizes that her little sister had made it out alive, the glimmer of pride that might be there. But what if they weren’t alive? Who would stop her from staying in the mud? Daryl didn’t seem too fond of her, and besides, she would slow him down anyway. He was probably looking for a way to get rid of her. 

The truth was, she had been looking for a way out for_so long _. Long before the world ended, she had looked longingly towards the knives in the kitchen drawers and the prescription painkillers in her mother’s vanity. What if this was her only shot? Her family wasn’t here to stop her this time, they wouldn’t know that she chose to die, they would just think that the walkers had killed her. 

That scenario was better than them knowing she had chosen to end it, at least to her. 

But then something terrifying occurred to her. 

_ What if we were the only ones who got out? _

If she decided to keep going, who says someone was waiting for them on the highway? What if the monsters had taken the rest of her family too? That meant she was alone with Daryl Dixon. 

She had never spoken a word to Daryl before today. She never thought she would have a reason to. Patricia and daddy had kept Beth inside as much as they possibly could, isolating her from the strange group outside. They only let her out to feed her pet chickens and occasionally see the horses - especially after what happened after the barn, when she thought she had a shot at succeeding. _ The pain doesn’t go away, you just make room for it,_ Andrea had said.

Really, her only interaction with Daryl was when she helped her daddy sew him up, but that was more of a learning experience for Beth so she could learn how to sew skin instead of fabric. She hadn’t exactly felt the urge to strike up a friendly conversation with the angry man in pain that had cussed and yelled profusely at Andrea - who was standing outside of the door - while he was bleeding out of the side of his head. 

Beth was observant, though. Daddy had always joked that she knew everything about everyone from just watching, unlike her other siblings, she preferred to peacefully sit in a corner and watch rather than engage. He always thought she was an old soul, he always told her that was a good thing. She saw how Daryl politely dropped off all of his kills already skinned and cleaned after Patricia had mentioned that she never learned how and that Otis had always done it. She saw how he gave the rest of his food to Carl and Lori, mumbling something about how they needed it more than he did. He was a lot like her, now that she thought about it. He was content with just watching others, always observing. Although she wasn’t sure if oldsoul really described Daryl Dixon. 

And despite her agony when Shane had shot up the barn, after realizing that her mother and Shawn really weren’t coming back, after witnessing the shell of her mother try to chew her arm off and thinking _ maybe I can do it now _ \- she saw how Daryl Dixon’s perfect mask fell when Sophia had stepped out of the barn, the girl he had tirelessly searched for weeks.

But even if she had watched him, always curious about the man who seemed so much like her and took every opportunity he had to distance himself from a group of survivors - Daryl Dixon probably didn’t care whether she chooses to live or die. So, she decided her fate - lying on the muddy ground in the middle of the Georgia forest. 

“I don’t think I can,” It was a pathetic attempt, really. A whispered sob. But it was true, not only could she not physically go on, she didn’t want to. 

He seemed to not hear what she was actually saying, instead, he grabbed his knife off the ground next to her and started walking away, away from her home, from where her mother and brother were buried.

“What hurts? Your dad will be on the highway, he’ll check you.” 

She took a deep breath in, ignoring the ache of her ribs as she did so, “I don’t want to, Daryl.” 

Finally, tears started to streak down her face. 

His head spun over his shoulder then, an incredulous look in his eyes, “What did you say, girl?” 

“I said, just leave me here and go,” Her voice was a little stronger now and she knew it was only going to make his reaction worse - maybe she could get him over the initial shock and then he would leave. But, deep down, she knew that if his past temper was anything to go by, she would have to fight for it. Because what was the reason for living if you just kept losing people? If you never had a home? She _ just couldn’t do whatever this was anymore. _

She turned her head away from him, staring blankly out into the forest. Her eyes caught the bracelet her mother had gifted her two birthdays ago, the matching one was with her, six feet under. 

That had done it, but before he could start to yell at her, or hell, just put her out of her misery himself, a few sets of groans had come from somewhere close to them. He moved to grab her, but she jerked away and scooted herself closer to the tree behind her. The first walker stumbled out of the brush a few feet in front of them and Beth watched as Daryl jammed the knife down into the walker’s skull before it got too close, moving towards the others and quickly getting rid of them too. He stood over the bodies for a moment, wiped his knife on his jeans and finally turned to her and bent down to her level. He pointed the knife at her face. 

“And what do you expect me to tell your family, huh? That I left you to wallow in your own self-pity and left you to be torn open by walkers? No, you’re coming with me whether you like it or not.” He actually grabbed her then, which she hadn’t expected him to do, and jerked her up into the air and onto her feet. She ignored the stabbing pain that shot up her leg and instead, started kicking and punching Dixon as hard as she could. She screamed and she screamed, her voice occasionally cutting out, leaving only a whistle of air that would escape her lungs. She kept screaming, shouting that if no one was alive than she didn’t want to be alive, asking why he wouldn’t just leave her to die like the rest of her family and just _go._

But for all of the kind things Daryl Dixon had done, the good man she knew he was deep down, didn’t make up for how much of an ass he was. 

He just held her tighter and started dragging her through the woods by her hair. 

Before she fell into an outright tantrum, she heard his gruff voice whisper something into her shoulder as he nearly carried her - something that made her want to cry even harder. 

_ “You’re not leaving me alone,” _

  


_ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ _

By the time they had reached the highway, the sun was at its highest point. She had stopped fighting Daryl a while ago and had just stared down at the ground while he dragged her through the woods, cursing whoever decided to leave her with Dixon. He must have started to notice that she was no longer crying because she had been forcefully dragged from her chosen grave, but because her ankle hurt so bad it brought tears to her eyes. He quietly picked her up, slinging her arm around his shoulder and carrying her like a parent would a child. They never said a word. 

He eased her down over the guardrail, leaning her up against the searing metal. He looked angry with her when she looked into his eyes every now and then - but he was handling her as if she was a ticking bomb. Maybe that’s what she was. 

They were alone, only the sound of the summer cicadas to keep them company. 

“Are we in the right spot?” She asked, and he grunted in response, weaving through the abandoned cars. 

She watched as the wings drew closer to a black car, but she was too focused on glancing back into the woods, wondering if she could make a run for it. But a quiet groan from the darkness of the trees had her spinning around and forcing herself up, hobbling after Daryl with her tail between her legs. She tried to ignore the flush of embarrassment she felt when she did, wasn’t she just begging him to leave her to be eaten? To let her put herself out of her own misery? Her first kill had been lucky if it wasn’t for Lori’s gun she’d have been in pieces right now. No matter how much she felt like running back into those woods, there was something holding her back now that they were on the highway. 

When she found him, he was crouched in front of a rusted black car, streaks of white paint barely visible, the food that had been left for Sophia was gone. She glanced around the highway, even taking a moment to look off into the distance to look for moving cars. 

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Daryl continue to stare at the pavement, swiveling around every now and then to look at the mud behind him. Beth was getting ready to say something, maybe even turn around and march back to that walker in the woods so it could finish her off - when Daryl turned to look at her. 

“There were cars, three of em', it looks like.” 

“Recently?” She wondered briefly how he could tell, the mud looked like mud to her. 

“See the tire tracks in the mud?” He motioned in front of him, pointing so she could see the faint prints, “Fresh, probably this morning or late last night. They went North.” He then pointed ahead of them to indicate which way the cars had supposedly gone, which she was thankful for because she had no idea which direction was what. 

But her worries of recognizing the tire tracks were overtaken by a sudden pain in her chest. 

Their group was okay, some of them, at least. Someone had made it out. But they hadn’t waited, because they thought_ they _ were dead. 


	2. The Highway

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! This chapter is very long because I combined the second chapter and the third chapter together. I hope you enjoy! 
> 
> \- Bee

_Their group was okay, some of them, at least. Someone had made it out. But they hadn’t waited, because they thought they were dead. _

“They didn’t wait for us?” Beth whispered. 

The words were painful to Beth, the whispered sob of a child - because that’s what she was, after all. She was a child who had lost her mother, a child who had been left behind. Lori had abandoned her, Maggie, her father, everyone. Is this what Sophia felt like, she wondered? This crippling feeling of abandonment and fear? 

“They’ll come back, right? To check if anyone else got out?” She asked, a whispered plea, really. To Daryl, to God, she didn’t know which. She just couldn’t accept the fact that they had left, not now, not after everything that had happened. 

Daryl stayed quiet and she broke. All of the pent up emotions that her mind had repressed, every assumption, every memory, every dark thought, hit her all at once - and she shattered. She screamed and screamed, digging her hands into her chest as if she might be able to hold herself together. 

She never saw Daryl get up, but she felt the hands that gently eased her onto the pavement and heard the quiet shushing that kept her grounded while she sobbed. Some part of her, the part that wasn’t falling apart at the seams, realized that it was selfish for her to scream. Her screams could attract walkers and she didn’t want to involve Daryl in anything dangerous because of her stupid emotions. 

She cried because there were no rewritten note, no water or supplies to keep her going, to keep anyone going. No, STAY HERE BETH, WE’LL COME BACK EVERY DAY. There was nothing because they thought Sophia had a better chance of surviving than her. She was the little girl that had decided that dying was easier than trying, and they never even gave her a chance. 

A ripping, gnawing feeling gripped onto her heart, seeping into her lungs and throat. It was a foreign feeling she wanted to rip out with her teeth, like a rabid animal, rid from every fiber of her being. She didn’t want to feel this way, but she couldn’t stop the waves that crashed over her, the fire that devoured her very soul, whatever was left, anyway. She cried and cried. She cried until the blood that covered her face had seeped into her eyes and stung. She sobbed until her breaths came out in heaves and her throat felt raw, until she felt like she would throw up from the effort of just breathing. 

Daryl never touched her after he had settled her onto the ground, never spoke. Beth wanted to thank him for staying quiet, for letting her have this moment to herself. She wondered if he felt like crying too, or if he had already accepted the fact that the group hadn’t left a message for him either. Did they think he was dead too? No, Daryl was stronger than her.

She cried for what felt like days. Memories of her mother haunted her, of her golden hair and her constant singing - memories of sunlight and peace before Beth had fallen into a hole of despair for no reason when she was fourteen. If her mother had been alive, would she have made the group wait? Would she have cried like Beth? For the lost girl that wasn’t strong enough? Who was never strong enough. 

And suddenly, almost as quick as she started crying, she stopped. Piece by piece, she felt her pain settle into the corners of her body, making room for it, ironically. She wanted to laugh then, a manic, tearful laugh that would probably make Daryl think she had a few screws loose. She had always been the weakest one, she knew. Her family’s youngest, the princess that never had to learn to fight for herself. She was not meant to survive this world, she had known that from the beginning. She wanted to find Andrea and tell her she was right, to thank her for telling her that she had a choice; and Beth had made her decision. 

_ She was going to prove this world wrong. _

She saw Daryl shoot a few worried glances in her direction, probably to make sure she hadn’t choked on her own tears and died. What a way to die. He looked away from her quickly, averting his eyes to the road ahead of them. Did he want to leave her? To just get up and run? She knew he had a brother out there somewhere, she had caught the backend of a story Glenn had been whispering to Maggie on the porch one day, that he had been left behind by the group in Atlanta. What was his name? Beth had forgotten. She had the sudden feeling of kinship to the other Dixon brother, he had been left behind too. 

Beth finally took the time to analyze her partner, could she call him partner? Apocalypse buddy? Friend? No, she didn’t know what to call Daryl Dixon at the moment and it certainly wasn’t a friend. 

She noticed that with the rays of the sun beating down, his hair took on a more reddish-brown color, rather than the mousy brown she thought it was. There was a leaf tangled in the strands on the top of his head, sweat causing his hair to curl around the edges. His eyes scanned the road, looking anywhere but her. She wanted to tell him to stop looking away from her, to tell him that he hadn’t made direct eye contact with her once - in all of the weeks since the group had arrived at the farm. She wanted him to grit his teeth and bear it - to stop looking at her as if she was a dead girl. 

Somehow though, she understood, because if she had just watched someone have a complete mental breakdown, suddenly pull themselves together and begin intently staring at her - she would have looked away too. She didn’t need to yell right now, especially not at him, he hadn’t done anything wrong. She had been so up and down with her emotions in the past few hours that she knew that she needed to take a break - they both needed a break. 

What was he looking for, she wondered? Walkers? Cars coming back for them? Did he feel abandoned too? She noticed his eyes were a steely blue, his lashes occasionally fluttering across the freckles scattered on his nose. There was a healed scar on his eyebrow, a silver line cutting through the tiny hairs. She liked blue eyes. 

This man should have scared her, should have intimidated her to no end - he was nearly twice her weight and had a good eight or nine inches on her. He looked like the type she would cross the street to avoid back before the world went down the drain, but she couldn’t bring herself to feel that way. He hadn’t said or done anything that she hadn’t deserved, yes, he dragged her out of the woods by her hair - but he was doing what he thought was right. Now that she thought about it, her thoughts about convincing him it was a good decision were stupid, who could just leave someone out in the middle of the woods to die? Well, she could probably name a few, but she wasn’t going to go into that right now. She wouldn’t have been able to leave someone in the woods alone. No one deserved to be alone. 

She respected Daryl Dixon. He had continued to defend and feed a group of people that had left his brother behind, his only family if her assumptions were correct. He seemed like the kind of person that helped others before he helped himself, someone, she was lucky to have come back for her and get her out. She could have been left with someone worse, she thought, but that didn’t mean she had to like Daryl Dixon. 

Daryl chose that moment to clear his throat, he still hadn’t looked at her. 

“We need to find you some new shoes, maybe somethin' for your ankle.” He said. Had she told him her ankle was injured? She guessed the pathetic attempt at running earlier had set him off. 

It was as if his acknowledgment of her injuries triggered her nerves to scream like hellfire. She winced when she jerked her legs back in shock, and tears flooded her eyes. She didn’t know how she had tears left to cry, she had to be dehydrated by now. She reached a shaking hand towards her sneakers, brown with dirt and her own blood and started easing them off. She wasn’t going back on her promise to burn them later. 

A sense of nausea swept over her when she eyed the state of her feet. She had dealt with blisters, bleeding heels, and chaffed toes. She had been a dancer in her younger years before she started high school - dealt with the pain of en pointe shoes. But now blood ran down the back, sides, and top of Beth’s feet, stinging the blisters in its wake. Both of her ankles were bruised, though one worse than the other. Her right ankle looked as if it had been run over by a car, black and blue and painful. She refused to look at the bandage on her arm though. That would have to wait. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Daryl had come back a few minutes later with a sturdy looking pair of brown boots in his hands and a pair of thick socks. Beth had crawled over to search the trunk of another car while he was gone, she had found a first aid kit that had been glanced over, thank goodness. She had bandaged and wrapped her feet to the best of her ability. Apparently, she had wrapped them good enough for Daryl, because he eyed her work and set the new shoes down next to her legs. 

“Don’t know if they’ll fit,” He whispered, crouching down with his hands resting on his knees to watch her. 

Luckily though, the too-big size of the boots allowed for her feet to not rub against the leather - helping the pain a little bit. 

“They’re fine, thank you.’ She hoped he knew that she was grateful, for what, she wasn’t sure yet. 

He nodded and took off to scavenge other cars, leaving her alone. What were they supposed to do now? Sit around and wait for the group to pass through, to come back?_ If they are even planning on coming back, _a voice whispered, but she ignored it. Were they just supposed to wander around the woods until they stumbled upon someone familiar? She felt hopeless. She had never been on the run, let alone out on the road without somewhere to call home. What were her daddy and Mr. Grimes talking about the other day? Some military base she couldn’t remember the name of, maybe they had gone there. 

Uncomfortable with being alone with her thoughts for a long period of time, Beth forced her body to stand, groaning when her ankle nearly gave in. She followed - well, hobbled, in the direction Daryl scurried off towards. She found him sifting through a minivan trunk, his back to her.

“They think I’m dead,” She whispered. It sounded very final to Beth’s ears, like a statement loaded with acceptance. She didn’t cry. 

He stayed quiet for a while, still shuffling through the belongings of a dead person’s car. Beth glanced around at the rusted hulls of cars, some of their doors left wide open, some missing pieces entirely. She averted her eyes when she came across the sight of a bloody baby bassinet. 

Daryl’s voice caught her off guard, he was still turned away from her. 

“Better than me, probably think I took off first chance I got.” 

Acceptance, she heard it again. 

“You wouldn’t do that. You came back for me, you saved me.” He had come back for her. Last she had remembered, he was out in the woods with Mr. Grimes and Mr. Walsh looking for Randall. He could have taken off, but he came back. 

“They don’t know that.” 

No, they didn’t. Because they didn’t give either of them a chance. 

Daryl seemed to find whatever he was looking for because he stood back up straight and spun around - holding a knife towards her. She nearly jumped out of the way but realized that the handle was pointed towards her chest instead of the blade. It was a small hunting knife, smaller than the one Daryl had bestowed upon her while he slept in the woods not too long ago. That felt like days ago. Beth nearly laughed aloud when she eyed the knife, it was pink. 

She took the knife from his waiting hand and tested the weight in her hand. That’s what people did, right? Tested the balance or something. She actually did jump, however, when Daryl bent down, his face level with her knees. He had a holster in his hands and looked up at her to ask for permission before fastening it to her leg. She nodded, and quietly slipped the knife into the pink leather after he fastened the last buckle - careful not to touch her leg. The silence was nice to Beth, comforting. Maggie hated awkward silences, so did her mother. Beth had dreamed of having someone who would just stop talking for a bit, to let her think. Who knew it would be Daryl Dixon. 

Before he spun around to go look for more supplies, she said what had been on her mind for more than a few hours. 

“What do we do now?” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Beth watched from the bed of a truck as the hulking man in front of her shoved a packet of beef jerky in the backpack he had found earlier, followed by a sturdy looking water bottle. Should she help him? She didn’t even know what to look for. Medicine? Food? She had no idea what the criteria were for survival gear. 

He hadn’t answered her question though. 

What were they supposed to do now? Where did they even start? They had lost their home, the place they felt safe, all of their supplies. Besides Daryl’s weapons and the backpack - they had nothing. Nothing to call their own. 

The sun was setting. A fiery angel off in the distance, coating this side of the world in a warm glow, but Beth felt cold. 

“Are we just going to stay here for the night?" She asked, because they hadn’t seen a single walker since they had gotten on the highway. She thought that maybe she would have attracted a few with her screaming earlier, but none came. It was almost nice, like they left them alone for the day. They were probably all wandering around the farm. 

"Shouldn’t stay out in the open, the herd might come back through.” He glanced up at the setting sun then, his mouth turning down at the sides, “It’s not like we have much a choice now,” 

He pushed himself up onto the trunk of the car opposite to her, tossing the half-empty backpack on the pavement under his feet. 

“We can go back to the farm, see what’s left. There might be some supplies.” He offered, shifting uncomfortably as if he couldn’t stand sitting still. 

Beth shook her head, “I’m not going back there, I can’t.” It would break her again and there would be nothing left. 

They stayed silent for a while, just enjoying the cool summer air, the sound of the cicadas hiding in the trees behind them, the rustle of the leaves from the breeze. 

“What happened to your motorcycle?” She asked suddenly, remembering the scary machine parked near Daryl’s tent. 

“It was surrounded, I couldn’t get it.” He whispered, his voice clouded with something Beth couldn’t quite put her finger on. 

She nodded, not knowing what to say to that. Wasn’t the bike his brother’s? 

“I’ll take first watch,” He offered, standing back up and dusting off his jeans, “You should get some sleep.” 

Was this going to be the gist of their conversations? Straight-forward answers and emotionless responses? He looked pointedly at the blanket that was rolled up behind her in the truck bed and then glanced off into the trees. 

She couldn’t even fathom sleeping right now. She didn’t want to stay on the highway, she could tell Daryl didn’t either. She didn’t want to feel the burn of the streaked paint on the windshield of the black car somewhere behind her. Did they mourn for them? Did Lori tell them that she had given Beth her gun, that she gave her a chance before she ran away? She liked to think that somewhere in their minds there was a small glimmer of hope - but she doubted it. 

Something hit her then, a memory, smack in the chest. She finally had a sense of purpose for the first time in what felt like _ forever _, something she could do to help. She never thought she would use this skill, Otis had taught her for the fun of it the summer before fifth grade. She could get them out of here. They could follow the group. 

“I know how to hotwire a car.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Beth could feel Daryl’s eyes burning a hole in the back of her head - watching her suspiciously. She wanted to snap at him, tell him to lay off and leave her alone for a few minutes - but she couldn’t bring herself to. She didn’t want to be alone, not really. 

She knew Daryl could hotwire a car - well, she didn’t know, but he looked like the type. She _ assumed _ he could. What she was unsure of was why he was letting her try in the first place, why he had looked her in the eyes for the first time and told her to prove it. So she did. Or, was trying to, at least. 

Her memory was a little rusty, after all, she wasn’t exactly the type that hijacked cars for fun before the world fell apart. She was grateful for Otis then, for trying to teach her all of the things her family thought she was too delicate for. Otis had a love for old cars, taking a rusted hull of something ancient and turning it into something great. Sprites, Corvettes, Mustangs, anything he could get his hands on. Beth had been fascinated, all of those working parts helping each other run a machine - a car was like a clock in a way, one thing out of place and the whole thing was out of whack. 

But after finding her one day hunched over the engine of the car with Otis, oil and rust smeared all over her brow and wearing overalls three sizes too big, Beth’s mother had decided she was better off playing with dolls and tea sets. Her daddy had given her a book about motors for Christmas a few months later, winking and trying to avoid the playful whack from her mother. 

One of the wires zapped her finger, but Beth didn’t stop - she was going to prove it to Daryl Dixon. 

“Today’d be nice,” He sighed, she could hear his leather vest rustling as he crossed his arms. It was taking a while, Beth had to admit. But it had taken a while because she had refused to let Daryl help pull the plastic cover off of the steering column. She had gotten it after about ten minutes of jiggling and prying at the plastic of the old SUV. 

She leaned out from under the steering wheel, raising her eyebrows, “Can’t you see I’m working on it?” 

“Mhm,” He mumbled and looked back towards the road, but she could see the corner of his mouth was turned up just the tiniest bit, “It’s the other wire, by the way.” 

Her head fell against the gear shift and she groaned, “You let me shock myself with the wrong wire for ten minutes?” 

He shrugged his shoulders and tilted his head, “You wanted to do it, keep workin',” 

After a few more minutes and a nasty shock later, the engine roared to life. A sense of pride ballooned in her chest but it quickly deflated. What does it matter if no one is here to see her accomplishments? She couldn’t even tell Otis that she remembered his lessons after all of these years - to thank him. 

She and Daryl barely spoke as they packed their meager supplies into the car. A few changes of clothes, a little more food, the blanket from the truck, and some Advil that Daryl forcefully made her swallow. 

She ambushed Daryl while he was searching another car, alcohol wipes and butterfly bandages on hand. She gently cleaned the wound and pressed the bandages on lightly, whispering that they would have to watch it. She wasn’t about to let the only person she had die from a little cut that got infected.

There seemed to be an unspoken agreement between the two that he would drive - he even handed her a faded, wrinkled map - but she really didn’t see the point of them anymore. Beth had changed her shirt and grabbed the blanket before slipping into the passenger seat - her heart hurt a little leaving the sweater she had been wearing behind. It was a Christmas gift from Patricia, but it was mangled and covered in blood to the point of no return. 

Daryl jumped into the driver’s side, adjusting the seat to fit his larger frame - she almost got onto him for not buckling his seatbelt, but she bit her tongue before the words slipped out. It was a habit. She had a short rebellious streak when she was younger, around the same time Otis had taken her under his mechanical wings. She thought it was cool to not wear her seatbelt until her mama had given her the worst look and shouted:_ “Elizabeth Greene, put your seatbelt on this second!” _So, she buckled her seatbelt. 

“We need to change those bandages on that arm before we go, it’ll get infected.” He said, and she knew he was right, but just hearing him acknowledge the thing she had been trying to forget made her want to cry all over again. She hadn’t looked at her arm at all, she didn’t think she could take it. It brought back memories and thoughts she was trying so hard to forget. 

“It’s fine,” She shook her head, shrugging her shoulders and crossing her arms in front of her chest. In truth, the stitches burned like hell and her arm throbbed - but she needed a few more days. 

“It’s not fine,” He said, reaching for her arm and nearly getting a good grip before she jerked away. 

“Don’t touch me,” She whispered, and she watched as he leaned back, taking his hand away as if he had been burned. She thought she saw a brief flash of pain in his eyes and she felt guilty for a split second before she figured it must have been a trick of the light. He clenched his jaw and jerked the gear shift into drive. 

They both left it at that. She wanted to leave it at that, to stay silent, but she couldn’t stop the little plea that escaped her lips before she could pull it back. 

“Please put your seatbelt on?” 

Seeing him slowly reach behind his shoulder and click the buckle into place made her feel a little bit better. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They had been driving in the dark for what felt like hours before Beth saw the first walker since the woods that morning. One of its arms was at an odd angle, hanging limp at its side - the headlights of the car caused its eyes to shine like a rabid animal’s. Beth had drawn a breath and gripped the armrest a little tighter, but Daryl just maneuvered around it and kept going. She had worried that having the headlights on would attract them when they started driving, but that didn’t seem to be the case. 

The tightness in her chest lessened the further they got away from the highway. Much like the farm, it seemed like the further out from the cities and towns you were, the better off. The farm had just been unlucky when the herd passed through, a fluke. 

Beth wanted to revoke her past statements, about how she and Daryl’s silences were peaceful, how the sound of their simultaneous breathing calmed her heart. Now, after her sudden refusal to accept his help, the silence felt suffocating. Though he didn’t know it, she knew he was angry with her for not wanting his help cleaning her arm, from jerking away so violently from his helping hand. She wondered why he looked so hurt when she had done so - if it wasn’t just a trick of the light. 

To take her mind off of the silence, Beth began to wonder who this car had belonged to before it all ended. There wasn’t much left in the trunk beside a soccer ball and a few articles of clothing that were too big for Beth. Curious, she pressed the play button on the CD player, an upbeat tune started playing - somehow familiar, but she couldn’t quite place it. After the first few lines, Beth fell into a fit of laughter, throwing her head back against the headrest. 

Of course, the car they chose would have belonged to someone who listened to Britney Spears. 

She couldn’t miss the chance of looking at Daryl’s face at that moment, and the image of disgust and confusion she found was just hilarious. Beth realized that it felt great to laugh, to feel the crinkle around her eyes and the catch of her breath as she laughed - it helped her forget for a little while. 

“If you wanna listen to this I might as well just leave you on the road.” 

“Don’t disrespect Britney,” She laughed, he just shook his head. 

She wiped away a few tears that had slipped out during her fit of giggles, still feeling high off of the moment, she opened up the glove compartment to search for any other CDs. She hit the jackpot and held up an ACDC disk, raising a brow. 

“Good girl,” He said. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Daryl’s voice suddenly broke the silence settling between them in the car, startling her out of watching the trees go by, trying to spot what was hidden within the branches. The quiet wasn’t nearly as bad as it had been earlier. It seemed like Beth’s fit of laughter over Britney’s _ Toxic _ had lightened the mood a bit. 

“You’re gonna need to learn to use that knife,” He said, and she glanced over, but it was no use because he wasn’t looking at her anyway. 

He was right, if she didn’t learn how to use the fancy hunting knife strapped to her thigh it was just a killer fashion accessory. 

“Will you teach me?” She asked, hopeful. The tips of her fingers caressed the leather of the holster on her leg. She wondered if Daryl would be a good teacher, she hoped he was because her life depended on it. 

He shook his head, adjusting his grip on the steering wheel, “I’m sure Maggie’ll teach you how to use it.” 

Oh. 

Beth understood that was what they were doing, why she had volunteered her ability to hotwire a car. They were looking for the others, they needed the rest of the group - needed to know that they were all okay. So why did Beth feel a sense of dread? 

“What about until then?” 

“Whaddya’ mean?” 

“What about until we find the rest of the group?” She insisted, their group was fine and she believed that they were going to find them, she had to, but what if it took a few days? Weeks even? 

“We’ll find em'.” 

Beth looked at him then, really looked at him - at the hair falling in front of his eyes and the stubble starting to spread across his face. He didn’t look at her and she knew then that Daryl Dixon was saying all of these kind words about finding their group to make her feel better. Did he really think it was that hopeless? Did she? They had left the highway hours before Beth and Daryl had gotten there, they could be anywhere by now. They had passed a few exits further back, should they have gone off each one to check? 

She wanted to ask, but she couldn’t. It would hurt too much to hear his honest answer. The question still fluttered in the back of her mind. 

_ You don’t think we’ll find them, do you? _

Before she could say anything else, maybe even argue with him, to tell him he was full of it and that their group was out there somewhere looking for them, that they’ll welcome them both back with welcome arms and tearful hellos, Daryl had slammed on the breaks and nearly sent them both flying through the windshield. She was thankful that she had listened to her mother. 

There, sitting on the side of the road was her daddy’s truck and two other cars. Abandoned. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“They ran outta gas, probably went on foot,” Daryl said, slamming the door of her daddy’s truck so hard that she winced a little bit. She couldn’t get herself to step closer to the car, she knew it would smell like lemons and freshly cut grass, like her daddy, and she didn’t have the energy to cry right now. 

“Can you track them?” She asked, shifting from foot to foot to take some of the weight off of her bad ankle. What did he follow? Footprints, scattered leaves, scat? She had no idea. 

“I can try. The engines are cold, means they left a few hours ago, tracks’ll be tough.” He bent down, searching the leaves for something she obviously couldn’t see. 

“Can you track their scent?” It was a stupid question, but she was desperate. 

“I’m not the fucking Navajo, girl.” 

But Beth couldn’t pay attention to his angered words because she was spiraling. They had really given up hope on them, hadn’t they? They disappeared off into the woods, mourning their dead. 

_ But we aren’t dead. _

She wanted to cry, tried to urge the tears to stream down her face because maybe it would make her feel better for a little while - it always seemed better when you cried, maybe she would pass out from exhaustion afterward. The tears never came. Instead, the awful emptiness settled in her chest again, those thoughts of just letting go so she wouldn’t have to deal with the pain anymore. 

Daryl had given her a knife, it would be easy, she could just - _ No! _She hated this feeling, wanted to scream at it to go away, to leave her alone - that she didn’t have any more room for it. She wanted to prove that feeling wrong. She wanted to prove old Beth wrong - the girl in the bathroom that still whispered to her asking why she had to die so soon. She never wanted to be that girl again. 

Daryl’s words echoed in the back of her head, _ “You’re not leaving me alone.” _

If she didn’t want to stay alive for herself, then she was going to survive for Daryl. She couldn’t just leave the man alone, especially like that. He didn’t need her, he would be fine on his own - being able to hunt and defend himself with or without her trailing after him. She was finally beginning to accept the hard fact that she needed him, whether she liked it or not - or else she was going to fall into the void again. 

No one deserved to be alone, not in this world. She didn’t want Daryl to leave her alone, because if he did she would disappear and fade, she wouldn’t have any reason to go on without someone else to think about. She was weak and she understood that now. 

“I can see footprints right there, we can follow them.” He pointed directly at a smudge in the mud so that Beth could see it, it had a faint outline of a boot, but Beth wasn’t sure. She wanted to thank him for pointing it out to her, as he was trying to show that her family hadn’t just disappeared into thin air. She looked out into the dark trees in the direction they supposedly went, the sound of the cicadas were gone. 

“We need to get some rest,” She whispered, scratching at the bandage on her arm. It felt like hell. 

She didn’t know how they were still on their feet, adrenaline, she supposed. Daryl had gotten what, two hours of sleep this morning? She hadn’t slept since the night before the farm fell, they had only eaten a few strips of the beef jerky Daryl had found before they took off down the highway. Would he hunt soon? 

She heard him grunt, still kneeling down with his hand holding tight to his crossbow. What was he thinking about? About finding the rest of the group? About his brother? How unlucky he was to get stuck with a little girl? 

A growl sounded off somewhere behind Beth within the treeline behind them, low and snarling. Daryl was on his feet before Beth had even startled, throwing his crossbow into position and shoving Beth behind him. They both waited for the sight of rotten skin and dragging feet, but it never came. Instead, a small whimper and a furry tail. 

“It’s a dog!” 


	3. The Farmhouse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! I hope you all had a great holiday season and 2020 is a positive, happy year for everyone. I read through the chapter I posted a few weeks ago and just hated it! It felt so awkward and forced to me and I love the farmhouse chapters so much that I decided to just keep those. I'm planning on extending the time they spend in the farmhouse and add in Beth's diary in the next few chapters.   
I hope everyone has a great rest of their December and bears with me as I try to find my footing in this rewrite! 
> 
> Love, bee

_ A growl sounded off somewhere behind Beth within the treeline behind them, low and snarling. Daryl was on his feet before Beth had even startled, throwing his crossbow into position and shoving Beth behind him. They both waited for the sight of rotten skin and dragging feet, but it never came. Instead, a small whimper and a furry tail. _

_ “It’s a dog!” _

The sound of her boots rustling through the fallen leaves followed Beth as she trailed behind the familiar and comforting sight of stitched angel wings. The sound overruled her every thought, crept into her nightmares along with rotting flesh and gnashing teeth. Time had passed slowly as their aimless wanderings continued, the days starting to blend together. 

They had searched for other survivors from the farm for weeks, abandoning the SUV and chasing after the footprints that led into the woods. 

They didn't find anything, 

No evidence of campfires to keep them warm, no food scraps, just a jumbled mass of footprints that circled around Beth and Daryl's feet, taunting them. They had followed their zig-zagging tracks until Daryl could only find traces of their own footprints within the leaves. Seemingly by unspoken agreement, they stopped looking for tracks soon afterward. Beth kept quiet about the stab of pain she felt in her chest when that happened--instead, she just felt herself making room for it. She felt as if she was running out. 

Although, when they started walking silently in the opposite direction of the footprints, all she felt was a sense of relief. As they trekked through unfamiliar woods, Beth felt a heavy weight come off of her shoulders now that they had stopped looking for the people Beth was beginning to think they would never find--who had never tried to find them. 

The reason for her relief was selfish, really. After they had stopped finding clear tracks Beth had started to wonder if they were looking for rambling corpses instead of their friends and family. Beth felt relieved when they stopped trying because she wouldn't have been able to take it if it was true, wouldn't have been able to watch Daryl's arrows pierce the skull of her family. 

_But would you be able to look them in the eyes and ask why they gave up on you, why they gave up on Daryl?_ Something whispered, she didn't have an answer. 

Autumn had officially set in, and it felt as if Beth had only blinked and it was already over. The trees had lost their canopies and the wind had started to catch a nasty chill as the leaves swirled around their feet. It used to be Beth's favorite season, the smell of damp leaves and harvested crops, the taste of apple cider and pies, the sound of her mama sweeping the front porch in the morning-- now, she wasn't so sure. 

Yes, the sound of crunching leaves alerted them to any threats, the squirrels and raccoons were a little more ambitious in their wanderings, allowing Daryl to snag a few more meals--but those were the only positives she could find anymore. 

Beth saw autumn as a sign of foreboding. It was a sign that winter was coming, a season of death and bleakness, of snows and hungry nights, especially now that the world had ended. 

At the sound of loud crunching and light pants, Beth smiled for the first time that day. 

"Goddammit, dog!" 

She watched the rear-end of a Golden Retriever shoot off into the distance chasing after something Beth and Daryl obviously couldn't hear. The pup seemed to enjoy chasing after prey almost as much as Daryl did--occasionally prancing back with a skip in his step and a squirrel hanging out of his mouth. They allowed him to enjoy his own dinner, of course, who knows where the dog had found it, and who knows where his mouth had been. 

After stumbling upon the poor thing, or rather, he stumbled upon them, she and Daryl argued for nearly four days about what they were going to do with him. She had begged and begged to keep him, saying that he was just alone and hungry. Daryl snapped when Beth had started to ask the dog what it wanted to be called--because such a handsome dog deserved a handsome name-- and he mumbled something about rabies and another mouth to feed. 

All it took was her saying that _if the dog goes I go_, for him to break. Yes, he cursed her when she said it, but he let the dog follow them on their search with only a few nasty comments here and there after that. 

It had been weeks and they still hadn't decided on a name for the poor thing, whatever collar he wore must have been ripped off a long time ago. They tried out different names, mostly Beth, and by 'trying out' she meant that she sat and stared at the dog and said random names to him to see if we would respond. He hadn't responded yet. She was starting to think they should name him whatever they wanted. but Daryl didn't give any input.

They had finally decided on a name while they were holed up in a small hunting cabin a few weeks after abandoning their search for the group. Beth had been scanning the shelves of DVDs from her spot on a recliner and spotted a worn-out copy of Cinderella. It was perfect. 

_Beth scanned the movies, mostly action and adult movies, but what would you expect in a hunting cabin? She could still hear Daryl cleaning his arrows at the small card table somewhere behind her, the dog sat at his feet, where he stayed most of the time, quietly snoring. _

_ She was sprawled across a plaid recliner, her feet hanging off the armrest and her body covered with a small, knitted blanket that Daryl had thrown at her when they both agreed the cabin was too close to the road to start a fire in the fireplace and it might attract walkers-- or people, which Beth thought was worse. _

_ They hadn't spoken the entire evening, quietly inhaling the can of green beans Daryl found in the kitchen cabinets. They both tried to ignore the sweet, rotting smell coming from the back bedroom. A body lay on the bed, months into decay and rot. Apparently, the hunter had found an escape through his shotgun. _

_ Daryl had slid a towel underneath the crack in the door to try and keep the smell contained, but Beth could still taste it in the back of her throat. When he had slung open the door and the wall of putrid smell hit them both, Daryl had merely gagged and continued to check the room for walkers, Beth had to run out of the cabin and hurl up the squirrel they had eaten for breakfast. _

_ She shivered at the thought and continued to scan the massive wall of DVDs, a small line of kids movies at the bottom catching her eye. _

_ "Can we call him Gus?" Beth asked, her voice a little harsh from disuse. She hadn't seen the movie Cinderella in forever, but she remembered the cute little chubby mouse sidekick of the blonde princess. _

_ "The dog?" Daryl asked, and when Beth craned her head around the back of the recliner to look at him his hair had fallen in his eyes as he continued to scrub his arrows with one of his bandanas. Beth had continued to pester him to let her trim it, but he said that she wasn't going anywhere near him with a pair of scissors. _

_ "Who else, Dixon?" The topic of their conversation groaned, stretching out underneath the table at Daryl's feet. _

_ Daryl ignored her comment, instead, he continued to clean his arrows with a small smile on his face. She liked it when he smiled, she decided. It made him look younger, less sharp. _

_ "Gus Greene?" _

_ "Gus Greene-Dixon," She responded, turning back to the shelves to continue searching through the movies, something to occupy her mind after discovering that there were zero books in the cabin. _

_ She didn't see the way Daryl's smile faltered. _

Gus had stuck, though he was called Augustus more often, constantly in trouble for getting into something he wasn't supposed to. She and Daryl questioned how it was possible he had survived for this long, with his inability to understand what the word quiet meant. He was getting better, though. 

She was thankful for Gus. His appearance had given Beth something to focus on and talk about because although she enjoyed the silences between her and Daryl, going _days_ without talking was a little much for her. 

Beth thought she was quiet and shy--but Daryl had her beat. She couldn't get him to talk about anything. What did you do before the turn? Did you play any sports in high school? How did you learn to use a crossbow? Nothing. 

So, she filled the silence. She talked about her childhood, how she picked the light yellow color of her bedroom walls, the process of breaking in new en pointe shoes, how she loved to journal everything to keep records of things that happened, of memories, she even relayed her grandmother's famous brownie recipe. Anything, really. Daryl would occasionally add something to the conversation, asking short questions or making jokes about something she had said or done, but Beth often felt like Gus was listening to her ramblings more than Daryl. 

After telling the story of her first time driving a car through the fields of the farm when she was eight while her mother and Maggie were off shopping in the city for a prom dress, and her dad and Shawn cheered her on from the front porch-- she wondered if she really wanted Daryl to know these things about her or if she just didn't want to forget them. She didn't want to lose her memories, not of her family.

She brought it up to him one night in the woods, the silence warm from the summer air and the sound of the crackling firewood calming her heart. She awkwardly told him that if she was annoying him with her stories to just let her know and she would stop; but he told her it was fine, but she kept pestering him about it anyway. 

_"Maybe I could find a notebook or something, I used to journal a lot... that way I could just write things down and you wouldn't have to listen to me all the time." _

_ "Greene, it's fine." _

_ "But I'm annoying you, aren't I?" She pestered, leaning up on her elbow to look at him from across the flames. He had his arms wrapped around his knees, staring into the fire with a blank look on his face. _

_ "You're not annoying," He whispered, shrugging. _

_ She nodded her head at his answer and fell back down onto her back, onto the blanket from the highway. The sky was too cloudy to see the stars tonight, she suddenly missed seeing the stars. Gus lay at her feet asleep, the heat of his body comforting. _

_ "Go to sleep," Daryl said, in a tone that suggested it was more of an order than a suggestion._

_ Beth scanned the perimeter of their makeshift camp, the string of cans entwining the circle of trees around them. The metal flickered in the firelight. They had only had one walker set it off since Daryl had made it a few days prior. It made Beth sleep a little bit better at night knowing something couldn't sneak up on them. _

_ "Will you wake me up so you can sleep too?" She asked, adjusting her thin jacket so that it covered her hands, it was starting to get chilly at night. _

_ "Sure," _

_ Daryl didn't wake her up until the sun was rising, and when she questioned him for not waking her up he said he wasn't tired. _

She glanced up at the trees above them, the sky a misty gray instead of its usual blue. It was midmorning, which could mean that the first sprinkling of snow was sneaking up on them faster than they originally thought. 

They had both stuck to the wilderness after having to abandon the cabin when a rather large herd of walkers snuck up on them during the night, banging on the front doors. They had to escape through the bedroom with the corpse rotting inside of it, Beth using her sleeve as a mask. Daryl jumped from the window with Gus in his arms, catching Beth as she jumped down after him. 

They both seemed more comfortable in the woods than a house after that. When they started seeing their breath in front of their eyes they had started whispering about finding someplace to survive the winter. They had found a few places after the hunting cabin, restaurants, gas stations, farmhouses, but nowhere was reinforced or isolated enough to stay for an extended period of time. 

Sometimes Beth wondered if the reason why they never stayed in those places was that it was too close to the farm, to the highway, but she never voiced her opinions. 

Too focused on the sky above her and thoughts of a hungry winter, Beth ran smack into Daryl's back. Her first instinct was to place her hand on the handle of the knife strapped to her thigh, for her body to go into survival mode, but as she scanned the woods for walkers and saw none, she walked around the mountain of a man to look at him inquisitively. 

He pointed to their left, and when Beth squinted her eyes, she could see the flash of red he was pointing towards. A barn. 

She never thought they would stumble upon a house this far out, they hadn't seen a road for weeks. They hadn't seen another person in months, not since Beth had seen Andrea's blonde hair disappear into the trees. 

"Do you think it's clear?" She whispered. Talking in whispers had become like second nature to them, whether that was because they were afraid of being too loud or were both just so quiet that they were more comfortable talking in whispers she wasn't sure. 

"Could be." His eyes scanned the ground for tracks, and after seemingly finding nothing, started towards the white picket fence surrounding the barn. 

"C'mon, Greene." 

A few minutes later they were squatted on the edge of the tree line surveying the land in front of them. The barn had blocked their view of the small, two-story farmhouse that looked over the huge mass of land. The gardens surrounding the white house were wilted and rotten, the pens once holding animals were falling apart, their gates swinging pitifully in the breeze. 

Memories of the farm overwhelmed her, but she pushed them back. 

"It looks clear," She stood up, quickly blinking away the black dots that were her consequence of standing up too fast, determined to get the lump threatening to form in her throat to go away. She saw Daryl glance at her out of the corner of her eye, a worried crease forming in between his eyebrows. 

"You okay?" 

She gave a grunt that had started to sound suspiciously similar to his and listened as he followed behind her towards the fence. She hopped over as gracefully as she could, cringing as her ankle gave a painful twinge. It never healed right, it seemed. She was thankful Daryl never pushed subjects further. 

The boards of the porch creaked as they silently crept up the stairs, listening for any sounds that would alert them to danger. Beth had learned her lesson after swinging the backdoor of a fast-food restaurant open and meeting the face of about a dozen walkers. Daryl had yelled at her for a good week after that. 

A wooden swing hung from one chain to their left, surrounded by wilted ferns and flower boxes that had dried out. Homemade windchimes twinkled around the porch, made of rusted spoons and random bobbles from the house it looked like. The house was probably beautiful in its prime, Beth thought. 

Only hearing the sounds of their breathing, Daryl eased the door open--shocked to find it unlocked, but beckoned Beth to follow in after him. They both stopped dead, however, as they were met with the smiling pant of Gus, laying on a dog bed settled near the front door. 

"What the fuck?" Daryl whispered. 

"How did he get in here before us?" Beth questioned, unconsciously laying her hand on Daryl's elbow before glancing around the dusty living room suspiciously, "Do you think he used to live here?" 

Daryl ignored her questions, instead, he pulled up his crossbow and started clearing the first level of the house. Beth took the second level, finding nothing but dust and ghosts of bedrooms. As she came upon the last room, painted a light purple color with a butterfly motif and stuffed animals were strewn about; she tried to scan anywhere something could hide as fast as she could. She could only think of the fate of a little girl for so long before she wanted to cry. 

But before she could close the door back, something caught her eye on the nightstand beside the princess bed, the answer to her question downstairs. There, prettily framed, was a picture of their Gus, sitting happily next to a little girl who was missing her two front teeth. Beth held onto the picture as she walked out of the room, reaching out to grab the worn-out teddy bear that was settled prominently on the bed. She wondered what the little girl had called their furry counterpart-- if the little girl was somewhere, wondering if her friend was safe. 

"We'll keep him safe for you, I promise," She whispered, gently closing the door behind her. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Beth felt a sense of deja vu as she snuggled further into the large white couch seated in the middle of the living room, settled in front of the fireplace. Daryl sat at the large kitchen table a few feet away, cleaning his arrows again. Gus lay sleeping on his own bed, upside down and snoring. 

Her sudden question startled Daryl, if the small thump of him dropping the arrow in his hand was anything to go by.

"If there was one thing you could eat now, what would it be?" She questioned, picking at the edges of the frayed book in her hands. _Dracula._

They had settled down for a meal of Spam and canned corn earlier--the best thing they had for weeks, honestly. It seemed like Gus' owners left in a hurry, as there was still a huge stockpile of food in the cabinets and even a larger collection of canned goods, supplies, and camping gear in the basement. There were enough humongous bags of rice to last them years. 

It was a godsend, just in time for winter. They hadn't really known what to do with themselves after they had built a substantial fire in the fireplace, standing lost in the middle of a beautiful family room. It wasn't until Beth noticed it was starting to get dark that she snuggled down into the couch with a book. That was another good thing, there were _hundreds_ of books in the house, mostly off to the side in a small room that looked like an office. Beth could nearly taste the words stacked around her as she stood in the middle of the shelves. 

Daryl looked like he thought about it for a while, chewing on his thumb. "Pasta or ice cream, either one." 

She smiled, she would kill for some chocolate ice cream right now. 

"I really miss French toast, Patricia used to make it every Sunday." She briefly saw the memory of the woman's back to her, apron tied tightly around her plump figure, Otis stopping by to give her a kiss before heading off to work in fields with her daddy. She hugged the memory close, savoring in it. 

"I know, you told me," Daryl said, and she felt her cheeks heat up, he continued, "I don't think I've ever had French toast." 

From the brief conversations she had engaged Daryl in about his life before the turn, it didn't seem like he had a lot. 

"If we ever find a safe place, I'll make it for you." She promised, watching as he graced her with a small smile--neither wanted to talk about the what-ifs right now. 

The picture of their Gus was sitting prominently on the table, almost as if the little girl in the picture was sitting across from Daryl. Her brown eyes were kind, her freckles splattered across her nose like stars. Beth wondered what her name was. 

Gus let out a rather loud snore, content in his own home. Daryl had found the dog door Gus had come through earlier, sliding the cover that was leaned up against the wall over it, just in case. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

By unspoken agreement, it seemed as if neither Beth or Daryl wanted to sleep in any of the rooms upstairs. It seemed they both thought that staying in a house was fine, but invading what used to be someone's safe space was too much. So, instead, Beth watched as Daryl piled as many blankets and pillows he could find into two separate piles in front of the fireplace. Beth nearly giggled, feeling as if she she watching a little kid make a fort out of old sheets and chairs. 

"What're you laughing at, Greene?" He grumbled, dragging Gus' bed, with Gus still asleep on top, towards their little nest. They both knew that the dog freaked out anytime he wasn't able to sleep near one of them, laying snuggled into one of their sides when they had to sleep in the woods. 

Suddenly, without warning, a thought that had lingered in the back of Beth's mind for weeks sprung forward. 

"Why don't you call me Beth?" 

He stopped for a minute, adjusting a pillow a little bit more than he really needed to, "Don't know, little personal, I guess." 

"I call you Daryl," She offered, slipping down onto her pile of blankets happily, pulling her boots off with a satisfied sigh. Her socks were an awful color, and she was sure they smelled dreadful, but she threw them far enough away that she couldn't get a whiff. She wondered if taking socks from someone's dresser was considered disrespectful. 

He stood over her, fiddling with the frayed ends of his vest, looking anywhere but her. 

"I think Greene suits you, 's all," 

_Sure, sure, _she thought. 

"I can think of a lot of names that suit you," She whispered, watching as the corner of his mouth turned up a little. 

"I'm sure you can, Greene," He walked over to his crossbow, patting Gus on the head, and started to slip out the door. "'m gonna go check around the house, make sure everything is fine." The door gently closed shut, leaving Beth alone in the firelight. 

She gently crawled over to the sleeping mound that was Gus, taking the teddy bear out of her flannel pocket and tucking it under his chin. She didn't know where the little girl was, but she felt better knowing a small piece of her was with her dog. 

"G'night, Gus." She placed a light kiss on his head and slid back towards her designated bed, resuming her spot in _Dracula_. She eyed the door, only one thought going through her mind.

_ I'm going to make that man talk if it kills me. _


	4. Winter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got a few comments in the original story that people were kind of disappointed that Daryl was so OOC, and I totally agree! I want to make Daryl more in character with this story, which for me, meant making him a little bit more aggressive and less complacent with Beth in the beginning. Don't worry though, Daryl will still be a lovable, sweet jerk. 
> 
> Love, bee

_ She gently crawled over to the sleeping mound that was Gus, taking the teddy bear out of her flannel pocket and tucking it under his chin. She didn't know where the little girl was, but she felt better knowing a small piece of her was with her dog. _

_ "G'night, Gus." She placed a light kiss on his head and slid back towards her designated bed, resuming her spot in Dracula. She eyed the door, only one thought going through her mind._

_ I'm going to make that man talk if it kills me. _

Only a few days after they had found the farmhouse, the first snow coated the fields in a shimmering white layer, the final breaths of autumn disappearing. Beth wondered if they had somehow crossed a state line at some point because she could not remember Georgia ever having a winter like that. 

The house, literally, was a godsend. The morning after they found the house, with the sunlight streaming through the huge windows, they could finally take stock of all they had there--the canned goods, the fruit, and vegetables canned in the cellar. The house even had running water, since it ran off a well system. Daryl and Beth had learned to check the well every morning though, just in case.

Daryl came back one morning to tell her that he found a creek only a few acres from the house, it led all the way to a lake that most likely had loads of fish. They found a set of fishing poles in the basement.

They never stayed in the more personal areas of the house for long. Beth discovered that whoever had lived here were nearly the same size as they were, which they were grateful for because Beth didn't know how long they would have lasted in the tank tops and t-shirts they wore after the farm fell. She had even found Gus' winter jacket while searching through the coat closet, so now he was buckled up and warm whenever he went out to frolic with Daryl in the snow--his previous owner's teddy bear being gently carried in his mouth. 

They struggled with keeping the fire going, even trying to keep the first floor of the house at a livable temperature was a struggle. Beth felt as if Daryl's arms were going to crack and fall off if he chopped any more wood. She had tried to help at first, but Daryl had laughed and told her that she would find a way to miss and chop her leg off. So, she settled for carrying the wood back and forth and playing fetch with Gus. 

It was all becoming quite domestic, really. Daryl kept the fire going and brought back meat to go with dinner, she kept the house clean and attempted to fix anything that resembled a normal meal. As it turns out, canned peaches and squirrel meat was quite good together. 

Beth didn't know when the realization had struck her, but she soon realized that Daryl was _all_ she had now. He was the only other human being in the world that was there for her, the only person that she could rely on to keep her alive. And yet, she knew nothing about him. She didn't know his family, the first time he drove a car, what kind of food he liked--nothing. He knew all of those things about her, though Beth didn't really give him a choice in the matter. Beth wanted to know these things about him, though. She wanted Daryl Dixon to be her friend and she wanted to be his because all they had now was each other. And Gus, of course. 

Though Daryl was just outside the front door, Beth suddenly felt very alone. 

She never really had friends when she was younger. She had a few friends who hung around with her during the summer and in school, because they were family friends, people she went to church with--but no one was ever really her friend. She never had someone who knew her very well or actively wanted to spend time with her. It might've been her own fault, she was always shy with other people and her family never forced her to interact with kids her own age. She had been stuck in her head since she was little, it seemed. 

She felt confident in her and Daryl's friendship, though. It was slow going, but it was there, and that was all that mattered to Beth. One night when the snow had been particularly harsh and the wind had howled against the windows, Gus had taken it upon himself to make the space between Daryl and Beth his new bed, teddy bear and all. It was a welcomed action because no matter how many blankets they wrapped around themselves, Gus was a space heater. Nearly an hour after plopping himself down between them, he had woken them both up with his snoring--which seemed to worsen with the weather. Beth wondered if the poor thing had allergies because the noise that could come out of that dog was hilarious. Beth and Daryl had made eye contact over the heap of dog and had started laughing so hard that they woke Gus up. That was one of Beth's favorite moments. 

Beth demolished the books in the house within weeks, and she was shocked to find that Daryl could read through them as fast as she could. Not that she thought he couldn't read, just that he didn't seem like the type to voraciously read something. From what he chose to read, it seemed he liked mysteries the best. 

She heard the front door open and close as she scrubbed down the kitchen counter. Her new mission? To get rid of the inch-think layer of dust that covered the first floor of the house. It wasn't like she had much else to do. She was starting to go stir-crazy locked up in the house all day. 

Beth didn't want to jinx them by saying it was boring here, she didn't dare. She knew that as the weeks passed, the thought of being out in the open again grew closer to something resembling a nightmare. It was nice to not have to sleep in shifts and go to bed on an empty stomach. But she wanted to _do something_.

She wanted to be able to defend herself, to be able to use the knife Daryl had gifted her on the highway. She felt useless, and she didn't want to repeat her role on the farm, cleaning and collecting chicken eggs. 

Daryl had given her a perfect excuse to bring it up. He had theorized that the cold slowed walkers down--a hibernation of sorts. In the weeks that they had been there, they had only seen three walkers that were close enough to deem a threat. Beth thought that if she brought up that they could use this to their advantage, to use the slower walkers as practice, then Daryl might be a little more willing. 

She threw the dishtowel into the sink and spun around to watch Daryl toss a few more logs onto the fire, enough to keep it running for another hour or so. 

Beth moved towards the kitchen table, where _The Great Gatsby_ lay open where Beth had stopped reading after breakfast. Daryl's book, some Dan Brown mystery, lay on his side of the blankets. 

It was now or never. 

"Will you teach me how to use my knife soon?" Beth distinctly remembered Daryl saying that Maggie would teach her whenever they found them, obviously, that never happened. 

Daryl eyed her from the kitchen counter, where he was inhaling a granola bar from a box they had found in a gas station a few months back. They were crunchy and a little stale, but still edible. 

"Why?" He questioned, she wondered why he felt the need to question it at all. It was either learn how to defend yourself or die in this world. What if they got separated? She would be a walking prime rib. 

"I would like to learn how to defend myself, sooner rather than later." She answered, leaning up against the back of the couch and crossing her arms over her chest. She usually did this when she was uncomfortable, but right now it felt as if she was making a business deal. 

"What if we get separated somehow? Or we get overrun? I have no idea how to use the knife correctly, I might as well not have it at all." She added, shifting on her feet. Gus ran hyper circles around the coffee table, they called them zoomies. 

"I wouldn't let that happen anyway," Daryl said, crossing his arms, mimicking Beth's stance. Why was he being so difficult about this? Did he not want her to learn how to defend herself? He made her so angry! Why couldn't he just say what he was thinking, to be honest, and give her more than short answers? She snapped then, months of frustration coming out, uncrossing her arms and stomping closer to him. 

"Well what if it does, Daryl? I can't stay locked up in this house all day, doing nothing, I'll fucking lose it! You won't let me do anything! I can't just keep carting wood back and forth and wander around the first floor, what are you so goddamn scared of? Every time I even bring up learning how to use a knife you shut me down and tell me no, why? Am I that much of a child to you, or are you just such a misogynistic asshole that you can't let a woman do anything?" Her voice had risen, a little bit too loud. Tears clouded her vision, something that always happened when she was frustrated. Gus stopped his zoomies and Daryl raised an eyebrow at her tone, his teeth clenched. 

Oh Lord, she had gone too far - hadn't she? At least she got it all out. 

He raised a finger at her, taking a step closer to her so he could tower over her, she always forgot how big he was, "You better fucking watch your mouth, sunshine." 

She didn't back off, peering up at him. He could intimidate her all he wanted, she wasn't losing this time. 

"I know you look at me and you see another dead girl, another tally to add to the long list of people you've watched die. I'm not going to be part of that list, not if I can help it. Either I can do this with you or I can do this without you, the choice is yours." She spat, spinning around and heading towards the door. She grabbed her knife on the way out, having zero clue what she was planning to do when she got outside, but she needed to get out of the house, to do something. 

The cold air that greeted her cleared the angry fog that was in her head, the angry tears disappearing, thankfully. She didn't hear Daryl following her. Yet. 

She had seen him angry before, spurred on by someone with a big mouth, but he was never angry with _her._ He had been too polite and quiet for months, and she_ craved_ something else. She wanted to get him angry, because then maybe he would listen to her. She needed to feel some kind of emotion other than sadness and boredom. Now she got to experience what it was like on the enemy frontline against an angry Dixon.

She had barely made it off the first step when she heard boots stomp up behind her and the door slam shut. Gus took off into the fields, his energy back with a vengeance. 

A hand grabbed her elbow, jerking her back and spinning her around to face him. He pointed a finger in her face, and he was _furious_. 

"Listen here, you little bitch, if you think you can talk to me that way you have another thing comin'. You're lucky you're even alive right now, I could have left your ass on the highway. Is that what you want? It's what you wanted in the fucking woods when you begged me to let you die. I'm more than happy to leave your whiny little ass if you want some time to yourself. Seems like you have a handle on things." 

She tried to remain calm, to not yell back at him for being such an ass--but her arm hurt. She didn't think he realized how hard he was gripping her arm. 

"Daryl, you're hurting me." 

They both looked down at his hand on her arm, so tight that her hand was turning white from no blood flow. He let go of her as if she had burned him, his eyes wide and glassy. She stretched her fingers out, looking down at her feet. She got what she wanted, she angered him, but did she go a little too far? Did he go too far? 

He took a sudden step back, the back of his boots hitting the front of the wooden steps. He looked like he had seen a ghost, Beth just wondered who that ghost was. 

"Sorry," He whispered, he wouldn't make eye contact with her. 

"It's fine, I provoked you." 

"Don't make excuses for me," He pleaded, seemingly begging. 

"Okay, I won't." Beth agreed, shifting on her feet. Gus nudged her hand, trying to get one of them to play with him. 

Daryl ran his hands through his hair and sighed, moving back to slowly take a seat on the front steps. He looked at her then, and although he still looked shellshocked, he nodded. 

"You want to learn how to defend yourself? Run." 

She turned her head curiously, her eyebrows scrunched, "What? Run?" 

"You look like you've never run a day in your life, run around the fence three times and come back." 

Her mouth hung open a bit, her hands on her hips, he was making her _run? _

His hand came out to smack her leg, landing a good swat before she could get out of the way, "Get!" 

She let out a small squeal, taking off towards the corner of the field. Surprisingly, her ankle didn't hurt as bad as she thought. She hadn't run in what felt like forever, but it felt _good_. The cold air came and went out of her lungs and a nice burn settled in her chest. She felt alive for the first time in months, not just a wandering corpse. 

From the porch, Daryl shouted, "When you come back grab your coat! You'll freeze your ass off!" 

"Fuck you!" She shouted back, watching as Gus passed her with a wag of his tail, 

"Language!" 

She let out a laugh, and kept running. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

It was a little awkward for a few hours after that. Beth had run her three laps happily, though her lungs protested. She did grab her coat in between lap one and lap two. 

When she was done, Daryl showed her the correct way of holding her knife, gently guiding her hands and touching her as little as he could. He felt bad, she could tell. But she didn't want to tell him that she wanted all of that to happen, that she was selfish and wanted him to yell at her. 

It seemed the awkwardness disappeared after that, at least on Beth's part. They had stopped after the sun had started to set, going in to eat some canned soup they warmed over the fireplace. Beth watched as Daryl went through the motions of doing the dishes, eyeing his back. 

"Do you want to play 'Never Have I Ever?'" She asked, wanting to get rid of some of the tension she still felt lingering in Daryl's shoulders. She had heard Maggie and her friends play it a lot--well, eavesdropped was more like it. It seemed like it was a great way to get someone to reveal things about themselves, and that is just what she wanted. 

"What are you, twelve?" He grumbled, crossing his arms and eyeing Gus as he scarfed down some kibble they found in the basement. 

"I'll start!" 

"Oh, God." 

"I've never smoked a cigarette," It was a cheap shot, she had seen him sneak a few before the farm fell. It didn't seem like he was dependent on them since she hadn't seen him with one since then. She was competitive, though. 

"We don't have any alcohol to play this game." He was trying to escape, she could tell. But it was true, it seemed as if the people who lived here abstained from drinking anything other than water. 

"We can go off a point system, then?" She offered, glad when he nodded his head in acceptance. 

"Point for you then," He sighed, and she watched as he played with the candle they had resting in front of them, thinking, "I've never had a dog before Gus," 

It went on like that for hours, them battling back and forth for points. They argued over what was considered a fair never and what wasn't. Apparently, her saying she had never gotten a tattoo was unfair since Daryl had plenty that were within sight. That had launched them into a long conversation of how much tattoos hurt and what she would have gotten if she ever had the chance. 

"I've never kissed anyone before," She grumbled, he was at least twenty points ahead of her and she was pissed. Apparently, living a good Christian childhood meant you lost this game anyway. She had been riding off the fact that she grew up in an innocent household. She waited for him to offer up a point when he surprised her by having the audacity to look confused. 

"Really?" 

"Yes, really. Why does that surprise you?" She had grown up with two of the godliest people in their town, her dad had been a pastor for a few years, for God's sake! Her momma had nearly blown her seventh-grade homecoming date's off with her daddy's shotgun when he had leaned in for a hug. She pacified her mother once his mom picked him up by telling her that he was gay and that she was just going as a friend. 

"You and that kid seemed pretty cozy," A heavy feeling of guilt settled in her stomach, she hadn't even thought about Jimmy since the farm. Had he made it out with the rest of the group? She guessed she would never know. 

"My parents were good friends with his, I think they wanted us to start courtin' before everything fell apart, but no, we weren't together." They hadn't even held hands. She had been too busy dealing with the awful voices in her head that were whispering that _this was her shot _to even think about how she felt about her parents' choice in potential husbands. 

"Courting? What the fuck is that? This ain't the eighteen hundreds, were they making you wait till' marriage?" He looked honestly curious, and although her cheeks burned, she nearly laughed at the thought of Maggie and Shawn _waiting until marriage._

"I was the youngest and a girl, I think they just wanted to savor in my willingness for them to just choose and my virtuous personality," She explained, being honest. Before she had started dealing with her crumbling mental health, she had no interest in romantic adventures and dating. She had nearly punched a kid in her sophomore class when he tried to kiss her after dropping her off from an awkward group date at the movies with their church group. 

"Did your family not have rules like that? A lot of Southern families still make their kids wait until marriage to do everythin,'" She asked, honestly curious. It seemed like commonplace in her town, though if the kids followed their parents' rule was a different story. 

Daryl looked about ready to crack up, but she liked that he wasn't make fun of her for her nun-like tendencies. 

"My brother used to say that you gotta try the milk before you buy the cow," He whispered, holding his breath in case she reacted badly. Instead, she broke into a fit of giggles, hiding her face in her hands in desperation. 

"He compared dating women to buying cattle?" It was awful that she was laughing, she should've been disgusted, but hearing the words come out of the shy and respectful (usually) Dixon's mouth nearly killed her. 

After recovering from their fits of laughter, Beth's side aching from her efforts, she discovered that Daryl was one of the only people she had ever met that had made her cry from laughing so hard. 

"I'm at what, forty-six points? You got some catchin' up to do, Greenie." Daryl mused, stretching his arms as he stood up from their spot at the table. 

Nope. Because Beth was going to win this game, she had the advantage of being a teenage girl on her side. 

"I'll get you some time, Dixon. Go take a shower, you stink." She smacked his side as he walked towards the living room. 

"Sure, sure. Keep tellin' yourself that," He bent down to pat Gus, who was just as worn out as Beth from their impromptu run, "Oh, I almost forgot." 

He walked over to his bag, scavenging through it until he pulled out a book. It looked blue, but she couldn't be sure in the firelight. He grunted as he stood, and she made an embarrassingly loud noise when she saw him fling it towards the table. 

It slid across the wood to her hands and she felt a soft, leathery material. 

It was a journal. 

A pen came flying at her after that, sparkly pink with some ridiculous pompom attached to the end. He dusted off his hands and headed towards the bathroom they had been using to take showers. Beth still wasn't over the fact that the farmhouse had semi-hot water. 

Beth still hadn't looked up from the notebook and pen, still shocked that he even _remembered_ that she mentioned wanting a journal. That had been months ago. 

"I found it a few weeks back, so I don't have to listen to your ramblin' all damn day." He offered, awkwardly tucking his hands in his pockets so he had something to do with them. Beth felt like she might cry. 

Had he actually been listening to her? Not just blocking her out as he searched the woods for the group she had wanted to find? Because she realized that now, that if she hadn't been with him he wouldn't have looked for the group for as long as he did, maybe not even at all. He did it for her. 

Her awkwardness came out and she wasn't sure how to thank him just then--though the pen was a little much, she wasn't going to mention it. 

It wasn't even one of those standard spiral notebooks, it was one of those Moleskine ones that had a fancy ribbon to hold your place within the pages. Her fingertips ran over the leather, soft and shiny still, even after all of these months. 

"Thank you Daryl, really." She whispered, trying so hard to convey just how grateful she actually was. This wasn't something that was a necessity, this wasn't clothes or food--it was just something that she had off-handedly said that she wanted, and he took time to find it. 

He shrugged again and she was sure if she had more light to look by than fire and some candles, she would be able to see a blush mixed in with his freckles, "Maybe it'll make up for what happened today," 

Beth looked up at that, sad that he thought he had to make up for that. She caused that, they both were at fault. 

"Don't worry about that, I pushed too hard and threw a tantrum, you fought back. I'm fine, see?" She held up her arm, where there was just the barest of bruises. Shawn had given her enough Indian burns when they were kids that she was used to that kind of pain. 

He didn't look convinced but nodded his head anyway, heading back towards the bathroom door. 

"Don't enjoy yourself too much," He shouted to her, shutting the door behind him. 

"How can I not? You won't be in the room," She said, mostly to Gus, but Daryl heard her. 

"Shut up, Greene!" 

It felt good to laugh this much. 


	5. Teacher

_ "Don't enjoy yourself too much," He shouted to her, shutting the door behind him. _

_ "How can I not? You won't be in the room," She said, mostly to Gus, but Daryl heard her. _

_ "Shut up, Greene!" _

_ It felt good to laugh this much._

Beth let out a huge breath as she made it to the front porch, completing her fifth lap around the fence-line. The sun was starting to rise, casting a warm glow on the fog that covered the fields and hills past the fence. That was the problem with going to bed when the sun went down, you woke up when the sun came up. Daryl sat with Gus on the step, messing with his crossbow while Gus took a nap. It seemed Beth ran too much for the poor thing. He stopped running with her a few days after she started. 

Her lungs burned from the cold and her legs ached, but it felt good. Daryl didn't have to tell her to run anymore, she just did it before they started anything else. It felt good, and it kept Beth's thoughts occupied for a few minutes. Daryl noticed her after a few more heavy pants, setting his crossbow aside and snatching her knife from the porch to hand to her.

"Having fun?" He asked, sliding the leather blade into her open palm. 

"Tons," She breathed, adjusting her grip, "Why don't you run with me next time?" 

"You're funny, but no." 

They had practiced hand movements and foot positioning for about a week, getting Beth used to holding it in her hands and how to hold it in certain positions. Daryl was a good teacher, always patient with her and always answering her questions. It was worth getting yelled at. 

Now, they were moving into actually using the lessons on walkers. They had found a slight problem, though--there suddenly weren't any. They hadn't seen any walkers near the treeline or in the fields for a few weeks, which would have been great if she wasn't trying to learn how to kill them. So, Daryl was her punching bag. 

She never got the knife close enough to actually hurt him, he made sure of that, but it was nice that he trusted her enough to let her practice on him. He briefly tried to teach her how to follow tracks when they realized there aren't enough walkers. She wasn't very good at it, but Daryl told her that hunting in the winter was nearly impossible because everything was in hibernation. 

Her mind strayed to the journal lying on the kitchen table, still blank and perfect. She had sat for hours staring at the first page, trying to think of what to write down. Nothing came, and she was pissed. It was so easy before, the thoughts just pouring out of her so fast that she couldn't stop. She struggled to even write the first sentence. 

Daryl's hand smacked her shoulder, grabbing her and dragging her towards him, she was dead. 

"You're doing it again," Daryl sighed, stepping back where she couldn't reach him. 

"Doing what?" She asked, shaking her head to clear the fog. She had been tired today for some reason. 

"You're turning your feet in, you'll trip yourself," He stretched his leg to kick her feet apart, adjusting them, "You're also not paying attention," 

"I didn't sleep well last night," She answered, shifting in her boots. The snow had melted, just leaving the cold. 

He rolled his eyes, moving to stand behind her to adjust her grip. One hand on her shoulder and the other on her wrist. She could feel his breath on her neck and the _thump-thump_ of his heart against her back. She flushed, but she understood. He was an attractive man and she was a teenage girl that had grown up on stories of princes in shining armor that saved the princess in distress, of course, she would be attracted to the man that saved her life.

Beth wasn't sure when it happened, whether it was before or after they had settled into the farmhouse--but she had started seeing Daryl in a different light. Not a romantic light, no--although she could finally admit to herself that he was a very attractive man whose heart was in the right place, she merely felt mutual respect and curiosity towards him. 

She respected him because he _listened to her. _He had asked her a few days after gifting her the notebook why she journaled so much in the past, and she finally broke down. All of those feelings she had been ignoring since the farm fell came rushing out when she told him it was a coping mechanism. She told him about how she felt about her family giving up on her, how it hurt that they had more hope for Sophia than they did her; he quietly listened when she told him that she had felt weighed down by the expectations of her family before the turn. That she was expected to graduate veterinary school and marry after Maggie had run off to Atlanta--that she felt lost when she thought about her future. 

He listened to her when she admitted that she was depressed and struggling with her mental health before the world fell apart at the seams, that her dance teacher had noticed her behavior before her family did and scheduled her appointments with a therapist--that the end of the world had just given her an opportunity to end it. 

He didn't treat her differently after that, and she was grateful. He didn't watch what he said around her or hide the kitchen knives like her mama did after discovering that she was seeing a therapist. He told her that all that mattered was that she was okay now, that she had decided to live in this world. She felt different about Daryl because he saw _her_. 

She cried into Gus' fur when Daryl whispered to her one night that he understood. He told her that he had been the first in his family to be accepted into college on a baseball scholarship. He had been two weeks from starting when Merle had gotten into trouble, that he used the money he had saved up for the tuition the scholarship didn't cover to pay his bail and never went. His voice cracked when he told her that he spiraled after that, struggling with alcohol and nearly ending it when his brother ran off without him. 

She was thankful that he trusted her enough to tell her that, even if it wasn't a lot. She desperately wanted him to tell her everything--how he ticked and why he was the way he was, why he jumped when something made a loud noise, why he flinched whenever she raised her voice a bit too loud. But she realized if he had if she hadn't gotten everything off of her mind, she wouldn't have had the space to contain all of his stories. If Daryl had told her everything about himself and all of his struggles before Beth had let it all out she would have broken again. She thought that he understood that too. 

She never had a friend that would gladly listen to her every thought; every hope or wish, every struggle or dislike. She hoped one day she could be that for Daryl too. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She felt as if the notebook was taunting her. It sat in front of her, open to the first page. The pen was in her hand, ready to go, but she couldn't bring herself to write anything down. 

Daryl sat on the couch with a book in his hands, his feet propped up on Gus' back as he slumbered at his feet. His voice startled her out of her frustration, "Day twenty-one, we're still in the farmhouse, today, I swallowed a bug." 

She rolled her eyes, tossing a granola bar she had sitting on the table in front of her at his head, she missed. 

"You've been starin' at that page for a week, write something for fuck's sake," He sighed, turning the page. She wondered what he was reading now. 

"Did you actually swallow a bug today?" She questioned, picking at the pen's pompom with her teeth. 

"It ambushed me," He admitted, shaking his head. 

She let out a giggle, adjusting her self so that her butt wouldn't go numb on the chair. They had worked for a few more hours outside, and Beth was getting pretty good if she did say so herself. If only there was a walker or two to practice on, she would feel a lot more confident in herself if that was the case. 

She let out a heavy sigh, adjusting her grip on the pen like she would her knife outside, and started writing. 

**One **

** I never know how to start journals, this one in particular. Do you say hello? Say hello to yourself? I always thought I might be writing to myself, but I'm not sure anyone writes journal entries to themself - maybe to their older self so that they can read it and laugh, but I can't be sure that will happen, now, can I? **

** I know that I need to do this for me, to get everything out on paper that is always scrambling around my head. It seems my therapist was right, once you start journaling, you can never really stop. It just has taken me a while to figure out what to write in this one.**

** I guess I'll start from the beginning, huh? For record's sake. The world ended, like in the movies. People were infected by a virus through bites from other sick people. It is hard to explain what they are like, walkers. It is like the person is gone, just the rotting shell of the human, searching for food. **

** I lived on a farm with my family - my dad, mom, older sister, and my brother. I grew up there. Daddy told us not to worry when the power shut off and the radio stations went quiet, he thought it would pass, had said that it was just God's way of taking a break. When momma got bit by her friend Sally and then bit Shawn, daddy put them in the barn to keep them safe until doctors found a cure. I believed him for a while, but when one of the members from a group that came to the farm decided to open the barn and start shooting the friends and family my dad and Uncle Otis put there. I realized that day that my momma and Shawn weren't coming back, that this virus actually meant to destroy. **

** I made a mistake after that, but I don't think I can talk about that just yet. I need a little bit longer. **

** A few days after that, walkers flooded the farm, hundreds of them. Aunt Patricia died holding my hand and I lost my family in the chaos. A man named Daryl Dixon saved me, a man from the Atlanta group that opened the barn. He's mean and a complete and total asshole, but I think we're friends now. **

** We ran and he dragged us to the highway. Apparently, that had been a meeting point for everyone, but no one had waited. The group left, mourning their dead. I've spent a long time feeling abandoned by them, for thinking that I was dead, but I have gotten to the point where I've accepted it. A woman once told me that in this world, you have to make room for pain, and I guess I did just that. **

** We looked for the group for weeks, Daryl following the tracks and me following him. We stopped looking for them a few weeks later, but we found Gus, our dog, along the way - so that is a plus in this whole story. Daryl may tell you differently, but Gus is an angel. **

** We were in the woods for months, occasionally finding someplace, but it never lasted for long. I never realized how horrible it is to not have a home until then, to not know where your next meal was coming from or if you would have a bed to sleep in tomorrow night. It sucked, but we were alive - and that is all that matters nowadays. **

** We're in a farmhouse for the winter. It's beautiful, someplace that I would have wanted to live in when I left home. Daryl and I are adjusting well to living together, I think. There are some days where I think he hates me and wishes that he abandoned me in the woods, and then there are others where I think we've become good friends. I like him, he's kind and funny even if he tries not to be. He is teaching me how to use a knife against walkers, slowly but surely. Maybe I can convince him to teach me how to use his crossbow. **

** I want to be his friend, but how do you talk to someone who is the only reason why you're alive and breathing? And someone who refuses to make conversation like a normal human? I want to be his friend, and I want him to like me. We only have each other now. **

** Goodnight, Beth Greene. **

**Memory **

**Momma nearly falling down the stairs to hug daddy when he came back from a weekend-long veterinarian convention. He bought her flowers and a copy of her favorite book. Even though she tried to pretend she hadn't she cried a little bit. I was seven, and I knew one day that I wanted to love someone as much as they loved each other. **

It was short, but that was all Beth could put down just then. Daryl had gotten up while she had been writing to add more logs to the fire, moving to the kitchen to fix them some dinner. He chose the canned corn and cranberry sauce that had been sitting out on the counter. 

He opened the cans with a can opener and set her designated ones in front of her, careful to not get anything on the pages. He sat down across from her with his own can. 

"Feel better?" He asked, slinging his boots up onto one of the empty chairs. 

She smiled and he smiled back, "Much better," 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

"Can I ask you a question?" She whispered, shifting her hands so that they rested underneath her chin. 

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see him shrug, 

"Will you answer it honestly?" She turned her head to look at him, trying to keep a straight face. 

"Depends," He whispered back, picking at the corner of the cover that was peeling up. 

"It is important to me," 

She watched the scrunch of his nose, which if Beth's past assumptions and interactions with him were correct, meant he was uncomfortable. He shrugged again, and she interpreted that as permission to continue. 

"What is your favorite color?" 

Daryl took a sharp breath through his nose, his eyes close tight and his jaw clenched shut--and Beth burst into a quiet fit of giggles. 

"That's what all that was about? Jesus fucking Christ, I thought you were gonna ask me an adult question or somethin'." His words were hot, but Beth could see a hint of a smile. 

"What's an adult question?" She asked, still giggling. Daryl just shook his head. 

Beth's laughs quietly tapered off, rolling over on her side to hide her smile in one of the couch cushions. It was quiet for a moment, and then she felt one of the throw pillows Gus had knocked off the couch hit her in the back of the head. 

"Hey!" 

"You're not funny, Greene," He said as he rose out of the chair, tossing his book onto his side of the blanket pile, missing Gus by a few inches. 

Beth shifted onto her back as she watched him throw more logs onto the fire, enough to keep it going for a few more hours while they slept. 

"Seriously, what is your favorite color?" Though it was meant to be a silly joke, now she was curious. 

"I'm not answerin' now," He mumbled, using the sharp metal thing--what was it called? A poker? 

"Please? Mine is yellow," She begged. 

He shrugged his shoulders, "I dunno," 

"Everyone has a favorite color," She coaxed. 

"Green, I guess? Ya happy?" He asked and she was. Green was a good color. 

"Yes, thank you." They both kept quiet for a while after that, Beth basked in her sense of glory for making him smile at a stupid question. 

Daryl moved towards the bathroom, to shower, she presumed, if the sound of running water meant anything, and Beth was left alone to think about the past few weeks. Could they be considered friends now? Beth had never revealed so much to one person, not even her own mother. It felt good to have someone like that. 

But she knew asking silly questions and playing games would never get her as far as she wanted. Nothing had gotten her into Daryl's psyche yet, and she was starting to realize that he was really good at getting the conversation away from him. 

She rolled off the couch to fix their nests for the night, Gus already in the middle of their two beds, watching as she adjusted a few of the pillows so she could read another chapter before bed. She hummed a lullaby as she adjusted the blankets, but was interrupted by a low growl from Gus. 

Her head shot up, watching as he moved slowly towards the window, watching as a rambling shadow passed by the curtain towards the door. The windchimes twinkled. 

Her hand went towards the knife on the coffee table, heart racing. They had never had a walker that close to the house before, only wandering by the tree line. 

"Daryl!" She shouted, quietly, of course. She didn't know how many were out there that she couldn't see. She knew she could just swing open the door and take care of it herself, but what if there were more? She hadn't taken care of a walker since she shot the one with Lori's pistol. Although she wanted to do it herself, she wasn't going to risk it on something this dangerous. 

"Daryl!" She called again, moving towards the door as she listened to the hard scratches the walker was littering on the blue door, soft growls could be heard from the inside. Gus had started barking, and she knew she needed Daryl with her, just in case. 

So, she swung open the bathroom door, surprisingly unlocked, and was met with Daryl's bare back, covered in raised scars that disappeared into his jeans. They were angry and pink as if they were opened over and over and never healed, and there were more than Beth could count. 

"Daryl?" Her voice was small, her hand dropping from its place on the doorknob, in shock or pity, she didn't know. He spun around then, and she knew whatever companionship that had started flowering between them was gone. 


	6. Okay

_ So, she swung open the bathroom door, surprisingly unlocked, and was met with Daryl's bareback, covered in raised scars that disappeared into his jeans. They were angry and pink as if they were opened over and over and never healed, and there were more than Beth could count. _

_ "Daryl?" Her voice was small, her hand dropping from its place on the doorknob, in shock or pity, she didn't know. He spun around then, and she knew whatever companionship that had started flowering between them was gone._

Beth opened her eyes to the beginnings of dawn peeking through the curtains, the fire at her feet gentling to a soft flicker after a night of burning. Gus' head lay upon her shoulder, soft snores blowing against her cheek. If she squinted, she could make out the mound of blankets a few feet away from her, brown curls peeking out of the top of the blanket cocoon. She could see the rise and fall of his soft breathing. 

It had been five days since the walker stumbled onto the porch. Beth's intuition to not take care of it herself had been right, however, since five more were ambling about the front yard when Daryl had finally swung open the front door after getting dressed. They hadn't spoken about what she saw. They barely spoke at all, in fact. 

Beth knew a girl in middle school who had been abused, the strain of being a single mother in a small religious town had been too much and Emma Garret would come to school with haphazard makeup covering a fresh bruise. No one did anything, and the Garret's moved away a year later. Beth was beginning to believe Daryl's experience was a little harsher than a few bruises here and there, though. 

Though she didn't have definite answers, visions of what happened to him plagued her constantly. She now knew why he flinched whenever she made an exaggerated gesture while talking, why he refused to make eye contact when she yelled, always keeping his head down. Beth's mind flickered back to a few weeks prior when she had been in a gloomy mood, cooped up in the house all day. She always noticed that she became antsy and sad whenever the days grew shorter, ever since she was little. She had slammed cabinets and shattered a plate by accident while fixing dinner, jittery and frustrated with herself. Daryl had asked three times if she was mad at him, always in a small voice, like he was scared she was going to attack him. She wished now that she would have recognized the signs sooner. 

She always wondered why he never spoke about his parents, only his brother. She had her answer now. 

Beth felt angry, burning anger in her chest that simmered and boiled--but who could she direct her anger towards? Parents that were probably long dead. She didn’t ask if Daryl’s parents were alive while the world fell apart at the seams, she didn’t have the heart to. What if they were still out there somewhere? Did they care that their two boys were alone? That they could be dead? Probably not. 

What parent could do that do their child, Beth wondered. No matter how misbehaved, no one deserved  _ that _ . The anger was overtaken with nausea when she thought about Daryl, small and just a child, having to deal with that alone. Beth could never imagine bringing someone into the world just to treat them like garbage. To stand there while their wounds bled and never healed. 

Daryl hadn't yelled at her after she had opened the bathroom door. He uttered a colorful string of curses, but she guessed that was because she had just startled him. After he had taken care of the walkers and gone back to shower, dirtier than he was before, he never once made eye contact with her. He slammed the bathroom door as he went. 

Beth wasn’t able to savor in her first kill since the farm, of being able to confidently take out one of the walkers ambling about the yard, because she could only keep her eyes trained on Daryl--why she didn’t know. 

She didn't really know what to do. She knew him--or at least, she felt like she knew him. Daryl wouldn't want to talk about this, especially with her. But what if he had never talked about it with anyone? Beth knew what it was like to keep something inside for so long that it ate its way out, tearing at your lungs. She didn't want him to feel that way. She had seen slips of Daryl Dixon's true character, someone who joked about bugs and smiled when she made silly jokes before bed. She liked that person, and she wanted to be that person’s friend. 

But she didn't want to come off like she was trying to psychoanalyze him, either. She didn't want to ask him to relive all of his memories and thoughts and then ask how all of that made him feel, how it affected his daily life and how he could change it. She had been through that; she knew what it was like to feel like a scrutinized lab rat. 

Though he didn't look it, she knew a storm was thundering under the surface. He had been quiet for  _ days _ . He hadn't been this quiet since the highway, only giving her grunts and occasional two-worded answers. Beth had a feeling that when Daryl finally broke, it wouldn't be gentle. When Beth had finally had enough of stewing inside of her own head, she cried and whispered her thoughts while Daryl quietly listened--Daryl didn't seem like the type to do that. She was eternally grateful for Daryl being there for her, and she would do the same for him. 

The sound of rustling blankets halted her train of thought, Gus' eyes popping open at the sound of his other human consciousness--lugging his body over to give the back of Daryl's head some licks. It was ironic that the dog liked him better. Gus would have been made into food if it weren't for Beth's begging, you’d think he’d be a little grateful. 

She watched from her pillows as Daryl tied his boots and slipped his flannel on over his t-shirt. Neither of them ever wore pajamas, it seemed they both thought that said they were too comfortable--that neither of them liked the idea of getting caught running out into the dark in a pair of pajama pants and slippers. 

"Good morning," She whispered, her voice a little harsh from the onslaught of colder weather. The only sign he heard her greeting was a nod and before she could say anything else he had fastened Gus' coat and was out the door with his crossbow. 

Starting off her morning with a headache wasn't ideal for Beth, but she carried on with her day anyway. She made up their separate beds and put away the books they had finished, lying in stacks around the living room. She thought about going outside to practice on her own; something she had been doing ever since Daryl stopped talking to her, but one look outside the window told her it was raining. 

She didn't like practicing alone. Running alone, yes, but she missed having Daryl's critiques on her footwork and jabs at her skinny arms. With no teacher or practice dummy, Beth had started flinging her knife at a tree near the house. She had missed more times than she could count and got tired of walking back and forth to retrieve it, but she landed one good shot and then another. Then another. She just wondered if she could hit a moving target, not an oak tree. 

Beth scavenged the kitchen for breakfast, inhaling her own portion of canned peaches and crumbling granola bars. She placed Daryl’s portion off to the side where he could see it. As she sat down at the kitchen table with her journal, she heard the sound of an ax hitting a chopping block. 

Had this ruined whatever camaraderie they had been creeping towards? She felt as if she had lost her friend, even if he was still sleeping right next to her. She supposed he wasn't hers to miss yet, though

** Four **

.  **I haven’t written since that night, when I walked in on Daryl. I honestly have no idea what to do or say, because how do you make someone feel better about something like that? That’s not something that you can just pat someone on the back and tell them everything will be okay. **

** When I was little, I overheard Maggie and Shawn discussing a memory that Maggie vividly remembered from her mom’s funeral service. Maggie told Shawn that she sat in the corner in her pretty church dress, watching as more and more people told daddy that his wife was with God and that everything happened for a reason. She said that she could see as more and more people said the same thing, something cold and impersonal, that she could see the light fade out of his eyes. **

** I feel like Maggie, sitting in my pretty church dress watching as Daryl stews in his own disgust. Because I can see that, I see it in his face every day, that he hates himself for what happened to him - like he could control it or something.**

** And I’m angry, so so angry. But I don’t have anything to direct my anger towards except the tree out back. I’m angry at his parents, angry that someone like that existed. I’m pitying him and I know that, he knows it. But who couldn’t? Because even if he is a foot taller than me and is strong enough to stand up for himself now, I feel protective over Daryl Dixon. I feel protective over the Daryl that I know, the one that can joke and laugh about little things and the one who’s eyes light up when I ask him a question about the book he is reading. I don’t want anything to happen to that Daryl. **

** But I’m also angry at him. It’s silly, that I’m angry at him for something like this, but he abandoned me. He’s been quiet for days, and I feel like I lost a friend. I’ve told him everything and I just wish he would be comfortable enough to let himself to the same with me. **

** Last night was hard. I laid in my blankets listening to Gus’ snores and Daryl’s light breathing (that is so quiet I sometimes worry that he’s just dead and have to poke him until he moves) and cried. I cried because I miss my dad, I miss his hugs and the smell of grass and lemons, I miss him calling me Junebug and being the only thing that ever kept me happy. I miss him and I can’t reach him, and that breaks my heart. I cried because I don’t know if he is alive, and I cried because the thought of him not being alive hadn’t crossed my mind until last night. **

** I haven’t prayed since the farm fell, I don’t think I ever will again. But if I could bring myself to, I would pray for him to be safe somewhere with Maggie, not worrying about me. **

** Because they think I’m dead, so why would they worry about me? If they are alive somewhere, there is only a sense of loss, a sense of mourning. Did they stop to build a memorial, a little twig cross somewhere in the woods for me? I think a part of me is there if they did. **

** I’ve been reading a book called The Handmaid’s Tale for the past few days. I finished reading The Hunchback of Notre Dame before that. It’s nice to lose myself in the books occasionally, to not think about the world outside, and I think Daryl enjoys doing that too. **

** Daryl hasn’t come back inside yet, but I hope that I will be brave enough to bring up what happened soon enough.**

** Wish me luck, **

** Beth Greene **

**Memory**

** Running through the fields with Shawn and Maggie, chasing after butterflies. **

Beth had let out a heavy sigh before she slammed the cover of the book shut, a little harder than she needed to. She missed her dad a lot nowadays. 

She had taken a shower and washed their spare clothes in the bathtub by the time Daryl stomped back into the house. Her back and been turned to him at first, sweeping the kitchen floor in an attempt to rid the house of the seemingly constant layer of dust, so she hadn’t noticed that he was covered in blood until she caught a whiff of the sharp smell. 

He was fuming, and her stomach nearly fell out of her ass at the thought of it all being his blood, but the slight hint of rotten flesh told her that it wasn’t his.

"What happened?" Beth cautioned. Gus seemed fine, pacing in front of the fireplace for a place to lie down, but she was beginning to think that the dog didn't have a central nervous system.

"A group of 'em snuck up on me, I'm fine." He spat, looking around the room as if he was actively searching for something to hit. Beth took a step back. The ax from the woodpile was still in his hand, covered in rotting blood and dripping onto the hardwood floor. 

"Are you sure you're okay?" She asked, slowly stretching her arm to take the ax out of his hand, having flashbacks to those old horror movies Shawn loved so much. Was it  _ American Psycho _ or  _ The Shining _ that had the man with the ax? She wasn't sure. The last thing she needed right now was him destroying a part of the house. 

"I'm fine," He mumbled, his eyes burning a hole into the wall somewhere behind her. She had pried the ax out of his hand, forgetting how heavy it was, and moved to place it on the kitchen table when she noticed that the handle was covered in fresh blood. She dumped the ax on the table as if it had burned her, ignoring the loud  _ bang! _ it made on the wood and spun around to look at his hands, watching as a steady flow of blood dripped onto the floor. 

"What is that? On your hand?" She whispered, the worst immediately crashed into her thoughts, the image of Daryl red from fever, his eyes a rotten yellow color--a shiver ran down her spine and she moved forward to grab his wrist to see for herself when his other hand stopped her. 

"Don't touch me right now," Daryl cautioned, taking a step back, "please." 

So they stood, face-to-face. Beth watched the slow of his breathing as he calmed down, the clench of his jaw softening. He reached out to grab a dishtowel from the table to stem the flow of blood. She craned her neck and stood up on her tiptoes, relief flooding her system when she didn't see any bite marks, merely deep gashes on his knuckles. 

He caught her staring and her face turned red.

"I punched through the barn window," He explained, gesturing towards the backdoor. She didn't ask him to elaborate, not really wanting to know, and moved over to the sink to fill up a warm bowl of water and grab the suture kit out of the First Aid box under the sink.

They didn't speak, he obviously didn't want to and she didn't really know what to say, but she gently placed her hand on the small of his back anyway and guided him over to one of the kitchen chairs. She was grateful when he didn't resist when she pulled his hand into her lap. 

She really wanted to thank her daddy for randomly deciding she needed to know how to sew skin. A sharp pain shot through her chest, another wave of--was it mourning? She mourned for her father, whether he was alive or dead. The situation was only made better by remembering that Daryl had been her first patient on the farm, and now she got to stitch him up again. She hoped they didn’t make that a tradition.

She worked silently for a few minutes, cleaning the cuts as best as she could and using a pair of tweezers to remove a nasty bit of leftover glass. They didn't have any numbing cream or Lidocaine, but he didn't resist or jerk away. 

She briefly had to stop and remember the knot needed to tie the sutures off but figured it out pretty quick. Daryl only winced a few times. His voice startled her out of tying the second to last stitch up. 

"Will you please stop feeling sorry for me?" He mumbled, and for what felt like the first time they made eye contact as Beth looked up from his hand. She forgot how blue his eyes were. 

"I don't feel sorry for you," She lied, and he scoffed as she continued to stitch. She bit her tongue while she finished up, bandaging his hand after rubbing some antibiotic ointment on the stitches. She was pretty proud of her work. 

"I don't feel sorry for you," She reiterated, louder this time. One of his eyebrows was raised in defiance, challenging her. She didn't want to add fuel to the fire, she had seen him angry and really didn't want to see it again, but she wanted to give him as honest of an answer as she could. 

"I don't feel sorry for you because I'm angry with you," She started, watching as his eyes flicked up to hers from the bandages, surprised. She had his attention. 

"I am angry with you because instead of talking to be like an adult you abandoned me. You stopped talking to me for days! I know it's stupid of me to assume you trust me enough to talk about what you went through, with the girl you got stuck with. I know what it feels like to be alone, I know how it feels to think that there is no one else in this world that will listen and try to understand what you're going through. I've been trapped inside of my own head, screaming for someone to just say something and listen to what I have to say; to listen to the nightmares and empty feelings and the constant feeling of guilt for feeling the way you do. It's not your fault, none of it was your fault. I didn't choose to have a mental illness and you didn't choose to be abused by someone you trusted. Neither of us deserved it, but we made it out. We both have awful scars and nightmares that haunt us but there is a time to accept what happened and carry on with living. I've accepted it, now you should too. No, I don't understand what you went through, I don't know if I ever will, but I'm willing to listen," She was out of breath, but she felt lighter. 

"I do trust you," He whispered.

"Then let me help you,"  _ Like you helped me.  _

_ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ _

"What was your brother's name?" Beth asked, breaking the comfortable silence that had fallen between her and Daryl. They were sitting on the floor next to the table, across from one another. The sun was setting, and the fire was close to being completely out. 

"Merle," 

"Fitting," She whispered, offering him a small smile. He returned it. 

Daryl had been quiet for so long after she offered her help that she nearly thought he had changed his mind, staring off somewhere behind her, reliving something she couldn't see. Beth had always been a sympathy crier--hell, just a crier, but watching Daryl Dixon let out a heartbreaking sob and feel him cry into her shoulder nearly broke a piece of her. She had played with his hair and hummed lullabies while he cried, holding her breath to keep herself from crying. 

He never spoke, but she had a feeling that it helped. She forgot what she had asked him after he had calmed down some, but soon they were launched into the messy adventures of Merle Dixon and some of the crazy things he had done. It seemed to make Daryl feel a lot better to talk about his older brother. 

Beth's stomach growling broke the silence and they both broke out into fits of giggles. The other half of the peaches and granola bars were still on the kitchen counter, left out from this morning. 

"Is your hand doing okay?" She asked, he wasn't bleeding through the bandages which was great, but they would need to keep an eye on it. They had antibiotic cream, but that could only do so much. 

"Yeah," 

"Do you want peaches and granola for dinner? 'Cause it's ready," She joked, groaning as she stood up from the floor, dusting her hands off on her jeans. The dusty floor would be the death of her. 

He laughed at her joke, then laughed again when she offered her hand. She underestimated his weight because she had to lean back on her heels so that he didn't drag her down to the floor as he stood up. It didn’t matter because it was just good to see him smile again.

She was about to crack open the other granola bar when his hand grabbed her shoulder and pulled her into his chest. He smelled like smoke from the fire and the dampness of the ground after it rains, and she savored in it. 

"Thank you," He whispered, and she nodded because if she tried to speak aloud she was sure she would have started to cry. He held her for a second longer, then looked exasperatedly at the dying fire, sighing as he turned to the door. Gus scampered off after him, excited after being stuck inside all day. 

"Try not to punch through any more windows, will you?" Her voice cracked a bit, but she hid it well. She covertly wiped a few stray tears from her cheeks and started towards the kitchen. 

"Fuck off, Greene,"  _ There he is.  _


	7. Nightmare

_ "Thank you," He whispered, and she nodded because if she tried to speak aloud she was sure she would have started to cry. He held her for a second longer, then looked exasperatedly at the dying fire, sighing as he turned to the door. Gus scampered off after him, excited after being stuck inside all day.  _

_ "Try not to punch through any more windows, will you?" Her voice cracked a bit, but she hid it well. She covertly wiped a few stray tears from her cheeks and started towards the kitchen.  _

_ "Fuck off, Greene," There he is. _

_ _ The sun was out for the first time in what felt like years to Beth, shining down on the fields and causing the damp grass to glitter under its rays. Her breath fogged in front of her face and her hands were nearly numb from the icy morning air, but the now-familiar burn of exertion in her chest settled her heart and calmed her thoughts. 

Now, after her run, Beth was back at her tree. She now called it her tree in her head, since it had her knife marks embedded in the gnarled wood. She could hear Gus’ occasional bark from somewhere behind her, closer to the barn, and Daryl’s angry protests for the dog to zip it. He barked when he wanted to play and Daryl was not the person to go to for that. 

She let out a quiet laugh at the two, Daryl arguing with a dog and Gus too happy to notice that one of his humans was mad at him. She felt a deep sense of fondness for them both.

They had slipped back into their normal routine rather quickly, a few days passing with no awkwardness or long silences that were particularly uncomfortable. It comforted Beth, the thought that she was getting her friend back, and that awful sense of loneliness she had felt for those five days, had disappeared. 

She turned at the sound of the crunching grass and Gus’ pants, watching as the two made their way closer. Daryl didn’t have his crossbow, he hadn’t been carrying it as much since they had been in the farmhouse, but she could see his hunting knife strapped to his leg. The sun glared down on them both, causing Daryl’s hair to take on more of a reddish-tint. With the slightly-tattered clothes and freckles, Beth desperately wanted to make a Weasley joke. 

When he made it to her side, neither said anything. They both watched as Gus ran through the grass, sniffing at something that trailed towards the woods. Beth quietly hoped that Daryl was here to resume her lessons. She missed them dearly, not just because she desperately wanted to know how to defend herself, but also because she missed having him with her while she practiced. Even if he didn’t say anything to her, his presence always felt warm and helpful. 

“Well?” He said, placing his hands in his hoodie pocket to stave off the cold and she raised her eyebrows in question. He always seemed cold, maybe that explained the eight blankets he had on his side of the family room. Beth always ran hot, especially with the fireplace going. She would have to remember to hand over her extra blankets later. 

Beth guessed her face still looked confused since he rolled his eyes and explained after a few seconds of Beth staring at him. 

“Are you gonna throw it? I’ve heard you over here, now do it.” He pestered. 

She wiped the surprised look off her face as fast as she could, had he been listening to her practicing even if they weren’t talking? 

“Oh, okay,” She said, and adjusted her footing to a way she had seen someone throwing knives do on a movie once, stupid, she knew, and she wouldn’t dare tell Daryl that; but it was all she had to go off of when she started. 

She didn’t know if it was just having him standing behind her watching, being able to feel his eyes on her back, or the numbness in her hands, but the knife missed the tree by a few inches and flew into the woods behind it. He didn’t laugh at her, but when she turned to look he had a small smile on his face, and she huffed in frustration. 

“You’ve obviously hit it before, you’re fine.” He said, letting out a small laugh, she still felt a little flustered and pitied, though. She had hit the tree yesterday. Multiple times! 

“How about you fling a knife at a tree that’s fifteen feet away while freezing your ass off?” She mumbled, crossing her arms over her chest. She was egging him on, but she wanted to see if he had a good aim without the crossbow. Curiosity killed the cat, she guessed. 

He nodded his head and moved her out of the way, adjusting his footing and taking the knife out of his holster. His was heavier and broader than hers, nearly the size of her forearm, there was no way he could hit it from this far away--right?

She watched the knife leave his hand and hit one of the inner rings of the paper target she had found in the basement of the house. 

“Are you kidding me?” Beth blurted, listening to the small laugh Daryl let out as he stepped back from his placement. She wasn’t mad, not at all--okay she was a little mad, he probably had more practice than her, but she was competitive. 

She turned to stomp back towards the house, mostly leaving so she could shove her skipped breakfast into her mouth, determined to go back and get her knife later, but Daryl had grabbed her elbow and swung her back into position before she could make it two feet. 

“Come on, princess, you’re not giving up now,” He grumbled, letting go of her elbow and crossing his arms over his chest. She flushed at the term of endearment, crossing her arms to mimic him. 

“My knife is in the woods,” She said, letting out a gentle laugh at his over-dramatic eye roll and watched as he stomped off, much like she had tried to do, towards the woods. He pulled his knife out of the target as he came back. 

He dropped the handle into her open palm and moved to get behind her; quickly and quietly asked her if it was okay if he touched her before placing his hands on her shoulders to adjust her stance and turn her body. Apparently, her movie inspirations were incorrect. 

He spent a few more minutes adjusting her body, quietly telling her why it was better to stand with your feet facing one direction and your hips forward instead of with your feet facing the place you planned to hit. When he seemed satisfied, he moved to get behind her. His chest was just close enough to her back that she could feel his breathing on the back of her coat, and she could feel the fog from his breath on her neck. 

He gently grabbed her right wrist, her dominant hand, and held the knife with her. 

“Okay, relax your shoulders,” He told her, and she blushed at the feeling of his breath on her neck, right underneath her ear. She did as she was told, and he quickly told her to not throw too hard, just at a moderate speed, so that it wouldn’t spin out of control. 

He let go of her hand, and she threw it. It hit the bullseye. 

Her mouth dropped open in joy, and she started jumping up and down in excitement. She had hit it! She had hit the target before, but never in the center. 

“I hit it!” She said, looking between Daryl and the target with her knife in the middle just to make sure she had seen it right. She had come close a few times, but the rush of adrenaline from hitting the center of the target made her feel giddy. 

She felt like she was actually getting better. She felt like she wasn’t useless if a walker cornered her. It felt  _ so _ good. 

“Good job,” Daryl said, watching her excitement with a small smile. Gus got excited with her, running to jump up in an attempt to get her to play. She spun back towards Daryl instead.

“Thank you,” She said earnestly because even if she never hit the bullseye again, he helped her do it and she was grateful for that. He nodded his head awkwardly, pushing Gus away in exasperation. 

She retrieved her knife in silence, running to catch back up to Daryl as he made his way towards the house. They walked back into the living room in peaceful silence, Beth grabbing a granola bar on her way to shower. She got into the bathroom and poked her head back out, seeing Daryl sitting on the couch with a book in his hands. 

“Thanks again, princess,” She mocked, closing the door so she couldn’t hear the colorful insult he shot back at her, he was good at coming up with them. She wondered if the loud  _ bang!  _ against the bathroom door was his book. 

She had a small smile on her face for the rest of the morning.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Never have I ever... Gotten into a car accident?” Beth offered, reaching to grab another card off the pile in the middle of the kitchen table. They both played a mean game of Go Fish, that was for sure. 

“Point for you, could you even drive before everythin?’” Daryl questioned, “do you have any threes?” 

She handed over her one three, running her foot over Gus’ back underneath the table. They had finished their dinner of canned green beans and fried raccoon a few hours ago, their two plates sitting in the sink waiting to be washed. Beth couldn’t remember if it was her turn to do the dishes or not. 

“I’m not that young, I got my driver’s license like two years ago.” She distinctly remembered being so sick with a cold that she couldn’t see straight, but she was determined to get it so Shawn didn’t have to drive her to dance practice every night. It was pure luck she didn’t kill herself and the instructor. 

“You’re actually eighteen?” Daryl asked, and Beth put a hand on her chest, slightly offended. 

“How young did you think I was?” She questioned, she didn’t look  _ that _ young. Yes, her voice was very high and her eyes were a bit too big for her face, but she didn’t think that she looked below seventeen. Apparently, she was wrong. 

“I dunno, like fifteen or sixteen, maybe.” He admitted, adjusting himself on the chair. He started moving a lot when he got awkward, she noticed. 

“Ouch,” She winced, that did a lot for her self-esteem, “Do you have any fives?” 

He told her to go fish, and she sighed as she got an eight of spades. Did he actually think she was that young? Maybe that explained some of his behavior after the farm fell, he thought she was just a kid. 

“How old are you?” She asked, curious now. She was never good at guessing people’s ages, Daryl looked young, though he didn’t act it; looks could be deceiving, so she had no clue. 

“Twenty-nine, I think,” He admitted, “do you have any eights?” 

She handed over her two eights, curious at his phrasing, did he not know when he was born? 

“You think?” She asked, shuffling her cards through her fingers. They were worn and crinkled, well-loved by the owners of the farmhouse. 

“I dunno if it is December yet, still might be twenty-eight,” He sighed, and when she asked if he had any Queens he handed over two. So, he was young. She had always assumed that he was in his late twenties, early thirties at most. 

“Aww, we could have a birthday party!” She teased, placing her cards down on the table. She was getting tired of playing Go Fish, she planned on convincing Daryl to teach her how to play poker or rummy on a rainy day soon. 

“No,” 

She placed her chin in her hand, smiling, “You can’t say no if it’s going to be a surprise party,” 

He got up from his spot, noticing that she seemed done with the game that she was loosing, “Well, it’s not a surprise anymore, is it?” 

She laughed, watching as he moved to do the dishes anyway. Apparently, he didn’t remember who was supposed to do them either. 

“Never have I ever gone ice skating,” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Beth sat against her pillows, doodling in her diary. She had been working on a pretty decent rose when Daryl’s lump of blankets shifted suddenly and startled her. She had remembered to fork over her extra few before he went to sleep, he seemed silently grateful. 

She was awake because she hadn’t been sleeping well for the past few nights. First, it had been because of what she had seen when she had barged into the bathroom and that she was silently roasting in the too-warm house, now, she had been having nightmares about her father--stumbling towards her with gnashing teeth and rotten eyes. 

She wondered if dreams of her family would ever go away, or if she even wanted them to. Though, she would prefer if they weren’t dreams that involved their rotting corpses scrambling towards her. 

Daryl shifted again, dislodging the blanket that had covered his head. From Beth’s quick peeks over to him, he didn’t seem awake. Gus slept in between them, as always. His snores weren’t too loud, but Beth had grown so used to them that she tended to block them out. He had become somewhat of a white noise machine to them both. 

Daryl’s breathing, usually quiet and slow, sped up rapidly beside her; was he having a nightmare?

Beth reached over Gus to touch his shoulder to shake him awake, listening to the quiet whimpers and what sounded like--pleas? She nearly had stretched out enough to touch him when he shot up and she let out a scream in shock. 

He was coughing as if he couldn’t breathe, hunched over his knees. Beth scrambled to get in between him and Gus, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. She waited until his breathing settled, patting his back. 

“Are you okay?” She whispered, she didn’t want to be too loud. He seemed in pretty rough shape. Sweat covered his brow, and from her spot next to him she could see that his hands were shaking. 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” He said, but his eyes looked somewhere else, somewhere Beth couldn’t see, and Beth knew he was lying. 

“No, you’re not, and that’s okay,” She comforted, he hadn’t smacked her hand away from his shoulder yet, so she kept it there. Beth contemplated what she had said for a few minutes while Daryl looked away from her, she distinctly remembered wanting someone to say those exact words to her just a few months ago before the farm fell. She wanted someone to tell her that it was okay to be sad, to not know why. It felt good to say it, even to someone else. 

Daryl sniffing drew her out, and she moved to sit on her knees beside him instead of uncomfortably propped over Gus’s sleeping body. He had woken up at Beth’s scream, but after sniffing her and seeing that she was alive, went back to sleep. 

She rubbed her hands down his shoulders, a vain attempt to either warm him up or get him to look at her, she wasn’t sure. She was still slightly shocked that she had been allowed to touch him for this long. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” She whispered, watching as he moved his head to rest in between his knees. She reached forward to push a curl behind his ear, tugging it so it coiled tighter. She had never been touchy or comforting, and she briefly wondered where this sudden instinct had come from, but pushed it back for another day. 

He shook his head, unsurprisingly, and they sat in silence. Beth still ran her hand down his right arm, using the time to look at a few of the tattoos that were visible. She was never close enough to look at them. There was a star on his right hand and a heart on his wrist, both delicate and detailed. She wanted to trace them with her fingers, like playing connect the dots. 

Unwittingly, her other hand slipped to his back while she looked and she felt him tense up under her. Right, bad territory, she remembered. She quickly told him that she was sorry, for his nightmares or touching his back she didn’t know, and he whispered that it was fine. 

It had been quiet for so long that Daryl’s quiet admission caused her to jump, but the words still broke her heart. 

“He won’t go away,” 

Beth took a deep breath in, reaching to grab his hand--might as well use this sudden empathetic instinct she had, and surprisingly, he let her. His grip wasn’t as strong as hers, but it was enough. 

She wasn’t sure what to say. She wouldn’t lie to him, not about something like this. She wasn’t going to tell him that his father would go away eventually, because she knew that she couldn’t guarantee that. This was unexplored territory to Beth, behind enemy lines, but she desperately wanted to help him.

Beth wanted to be for Daryl what she had needed all those months ago, she decided. Beth needed someone that was honest, someone that would look her in the face and tell her that it was okay that she wasn’t okay, and that it might never go away, that overwhelming sadness and emptiness, but that they were there when it hit. 

“I don’t think he ever will, sweetheart,” She said, and when his eyes flicked to hers for the first time that night, she saw the little boy that got those scars. 

“I know you don’t want to talk right now, but I’m here when you need me,” She told him, squeezing his hand, “You know that, right? That I’ll listen?” 

They looked at each other for a few moments, blue and blue, and he nodded. 

They both turned to look back at the fire, and Beth wasn’t sure if she had comforted him, if she had made the monster go away, but she was damn sure of one thing. 

He was still holding her hand. 


	8. Butterfly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! I really hope everyone likes the story so far, I was a little worried that I lost a few readers when I decided to rewrite it, but I feel a lot better about this plot than the previous one. 
> 
> I hope everyone has had a good start to their 2020! 
> 
> \- Bee

_ “I know you don’t want to talk right now, but I’m here when you need me,” She told him, squeezing his hand, “You know that, right? That I’ll listen?”  _

_ They looked at each other for a few moments, blue and blue, and he nodded.  _

_ They both turned to look back at the fire, and Beth wasn’t sure if she had comforted him, if she had made the monster go away, but she was damn sure of one thing.  _

_ He was still holding her hand. _

Beth scrubbed uselessly at the kitchen counter, her hands aching from the effort. No matter what she did, Beth couldn’t wipe the feeling of  _ abandonment  _ off of the surfaces of the farmhouse. She loved the house, wanted to see it in the summer when the meadows were green and maybe one or two things would grow in the garden, when the summer sun came through the stained glass window over the sink; but it just felt empty no matter what she did. 

She felt like a stranger in the house, like she was watching ghosts walk and twirl around her as they lived their daily lives. She missed that, life feeling somewhat normal. 

She threw the damp dish towel into the sink and turned to lean against the counter, digging the heel of her palms into her eyes. She had a nasty headache and her chest hurt, but she knew she wasn’t sick. 

Beth had missed her father, but deep down she knew that he was alive. Her father was somewhere out there with Maggie, because she was strong and would take care of them both, and they were both doing fine. She wasn’t sure where this feeling came from, but she trusted it. 

No, Beth missed her mother with every bone in her body. 

She never had time to mourn her mom. For so long after she was bitten, Beth held out hope that she was just sick. She took what her father had said to heart and believed that sticking her in the barn until the scientists came out with a cure would be best. When Shane had opened the barn doors and she watched her mom, her best friend, get put down after lunging for her arm, Beth was too numb to realize what had actually happened. 

Then the voice came back, telling her that she finally had a chance, and she was gone somewhere else for a few days. Then the farm was overrun. 

She never got to mourn the death of her mom. She had lost too much blood to attend her makeshift funeral, so she never saw the grave next to the woods she used to play in as a little girl. Beth knew now that her mom had been dead for a long time before she was buried, though. 

Her mother had been beautiful, with her blonde hair and pretty dresses that twirled when she danced in the kitchen. She had been so happy, always so happy. Beth envied it. 

Now, she missed it. She missed the smell of her perfume, the swish of her skirts as she walked through the house, the gentle humming that followed her everywhere. She had been everything that Beth had ever wanted to be, strong and passionate and beautiful, but now she was dead. 

And Beth felt angry. She was angry that her mother’s church friend had scrambled to their doorstep with her husband in tow, begging her daddy to fix him. The man had died, and while her momma had been placing the sheet over his face he bit her wrist. 

She got sick  _ so fast.  _ Withering like a flower, almost. Beth never left her side, reading her books and chatting like nothing was wrong. The fever had taken over her brain towards the end, and Beth could barely remember the ramblings she had whispered to her. 

And even if they weren’t ever close, she missed Maggie. She had always looked up to her big sister, though she wasn’t there a lot of the time. She hoped that Maggie was okay too. 

Beth moved their plates from the sink to the kitchen table. Daryl was gone to hunt something down for dinner and Gus loyally followed him. She thought Daryl secretly enjoyed the company. 

She wanted to ask Daryl over dinner if he could teach her how to hunt soon. She felt decently confident in her knife skills, though their tracking lessons never really went well. She wasn’t sure if you could even hunt something with a knife, which is what she needed to ask him--would she have to learn a whole new weapon to hunt for food? She hoped not, though she did want to shoot his crossbow once or twice if she could, for curiosity's sake. 

Beth was opening a can of baby corn when Daryl busted through the front door, locking it behind him. Gus was in his arms and his hands were covering the dog’s mouth--as if to stop him from barking at something. 

“What’s wrong?” She cautioned, moving around the table as Daryl set Gus down on the floor, his hand not leaving his mouth. Her mind went back to the farm when the herd came through, surely, it couldn’t happen again? They couldn’t be that unlucky. 

“Blow all the candles out!” He whispered, and she shook as she stood up to blow out the few candles they had lit. The sun was just beginning to set, so Beth hadn’t lit them all earlier. She took the time to lock the back door--which was laughable, like that would stop something if it really wanted in.

Daryl finally let go of Gus, but Beth reached over to hold onto his collar anyway. She watched as Daryl crawled over to their backpacks, always packed, just in case. He scanned the window before he went into the kitchen to throw as much food into the two bags as possible. 

“Daryl?” She whispered, the suspense taking its toll. She felt Gus nuzzle against her chest, trying to comfort her. His coat rustled against her sweatshirt. 

She was about to whisper his name again when she heard a loud, boisterous laugh coming from somewhere outside of the house. Well, that was worse than a herd.

Her heart started racing, her breath picking up with it. They hadn’t seen other people in months. 

“How many?” She whispered, trying to listen closely to see if she could pick up any voices, there were a few. She felt a brief flash of hope that at least one member of the group was just outside the house, but she shut that down before it even got a chance to bloom. There was no chance of that ever happening. 

“I counted at least twelve, all guys.” He admitted, moving to sling his crossbow over his shoulder. He grabbed her knife from one of the small tables and handed it to her. 

“Did they see you?” She wondered, standing up to help him grab everything that they needed. It seemed like they were leaving. She threw on a small down coat they had found in the coat closet and a scarf. 

He shook his head, spinning around as if he was looking for something else, finding nothing. Gus nudged his thigh, teddy bear clutched in his jaws. It was as if he was saying  _ I got my stuff, let’s go.  _

She wondered who the people were that were just outside. Beth’s mind went back to Randall. Hadn’t he come from a group of all men? One of those groups that killed any man they came across and raped their women in front of them. She supposed that there were just some types of people who were meant for the world they were living in. She didn’t want to find out if the men outside were some of those people. 

“What do we do?” She questioned, the sounds of laughter were getting closer, the whoops and hollers of victory echoing throughout their peaceful hideaway.

“Get what you need, we need to go.” She didn’t even think of arguing, Daryl was tough, but he wasn’t tough enough to defend their home from twelve fully grown men. Though she would love to take some, she didn’t want to weigh down her backpack with books. She had everything she needed in her go bag. 

He looked her up and down, slinging his pack over his shoulders and making sure that Gus was by their side. “Ready?”

_ No _ ,  _ I don’t want to leave _ , she thought, but she didn’t voice her opinions. 

They were almost out the back door when Beth remembered something that she needed to get, something she couldn’t leave behind. She darted back into the house, running through the mudroom to the kitchen. It wasn’t necessary, but she felt indebted to the object. She didn’t know why, but she just couldn’t leave the picture for the men to look over and trash along with the rest of the house. 

“Beth! Come back!” He chased after her, but she kept up a steady pace towards the living room. She couldn’t leave it.

“What the fuck are you doing?” He whispered, jerking her back when her hand had closed around the frame, knocking her off balance and sending the glass picture frame towards the floor. It sounded like the loudest thing in the world, compared to the silence it had caused outside.

“What was that?” She heard a gruff and awful sounding voice and the sound of footsteps on the wood of the porch. Daryl’s hand had gone around her waist, jerking her away from the heavy sound of boots. She leaned down just in time to snatch the picture that she wanted – that she needed.

As Daryl dragged her out the back door and they heard the tell-tale sounds of someone trying to break down the front door, she finally saw the neat script on the back of the picture of the little girl and Gus.

_ Ellie and Leo, 2010 _

_ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ _

“I’ve never gotten a tattoo,” Beth said, kicking at a pile of mushy leaves and watching it soar through the air, landing with a  _ plop _ on the pavement a few feet in front of her. 

“You’ve used that one,” 

“Damn,”

Beth watched as Gus (Leo?) trotted on ahead of her and Daryl, who were trudging on side by side through the muddy remnants of a rainstorm. Gus was wearing his plaid coat, which Beth swore was warmer than hers or Daryl’s winter coats combined. 

Uncharacteristically, Beth had been freezing for the past few days, her hands numb and her teeth chattering. Daryl had given her his coat, now only in a sweatshirt. Beth felt horrible for taking it, but it helped some. 

She swore that they had crossed a state line at some point. She never remembered Georgia ever having such a harsh winter. It had stopped snowing for the season, it seemed, but now it was just cold and wet. 

Beth wondered if, without the influence of humans, the environment was shifting. Without electricity and pollution, would the climate gradually shift? She had no idea, maybe she should have paid more attention in science class. There was one positive Beth found to having no electricity--Beth had never seen so many stars. 

Apparently, Daryl had taken a few astronomy electives in high school, and if they were stuck outside overnight he would occasionally point out constellations of stars to her, her favorite was the Leo constellation. 

They still called him Gus. She and Daryl hadn’t mentioned calling him Leo, even if the dog would probably respond better to the name. She had shown him the picture after Daryl had finished yelling at her for going back into the house, which took him a good few days. 

He had looked at the picture for a long time, whispered that the girl looked like an Ellie and handed it back to her to keep walking. She knew that Gus would respond to Leo, but it felt wrong to use it. Leo had been Ellie’s dog, not theirs. She compared it to the bedrooms back in the farmhouse, sleeping in them would be intruding on someone’s life, and calling Gus by Ellie’s given name for him felt the same to Beth.

Beth still didn’t have a definite answer as to why she had risked she and Daryl’s life and safety for the picture of Gus and his past owner. It was tucked safely into the pocket of her backpack, though she hadn’t looked at it since she tucked it in there. She felt like she needed it, she just wasn’t sure why. 

They had stayed in the woods surrounding the farmhouse for a few days after the men stumbled upon it, watching to see if they took what they wanted and left. Daryl had finally dragged her away from her bullseye tree when they watched one of the men drag an unconscious girl through the front door. 

It took three days of walking to finally find a road, sleeping in the snow with a pitiful fire and the meager food Daryl threw into their bags. Beth had been right about going back on the road, it was a nightmare. Everywhere they found was either overrun, empty, or too close to the road. 

They hadn’t scavenged anywhere in a while, mostly because they were both still shaken up from the last time, when things had gone horribly wrong. Daryl had been overpowered by at least six walkers and when Beth watched him fall to the ground her heart had nearly stopped beating. Daryl had taken out two and Beth had taken care of the rest in a fit of adrenaline. 

She didn’t think about what she would have done to herself if something had happened to Daryl. She never wanted to think about stuff like that again if she could help it. 

It wasn’t like she couldn’t defend herself, scavenge for food for herself. She had gotten pretty decent with a knife, decent enough that Daryl no longer stood behind her while she took care of any walkers. She swore that if they weren’t struggling to find food, she would have visible arm and shoulder muscles for the first time in her life. 

If something happened to Daryl, she could survive on her own. Not for very long, but a lot longer than she would have after the farm fell. She was coming to the realization that it wasn’t the protection or companionship she would have missed; it would have been Daryl. 

She once had people she could technically call her best friend in middle school and high school, people she thought she could tell everything to and depend on. She had been wrong about them, though. Daryl Dixon had slowly, but surely, become her best friend. 

She felt like he knew her inside and out--she didn’t worry about voicing her thoughts or ideas around him anymore, telling him everything that popped into her head. He laughed at her shitty jokes, they played stupid games to pass time like I Spy and sang One Hundred Bottles of Beer on the Wall as they walked. 

They had a lot in common, personality-wise. The hours spent reading in the farmhouse was a testament to how much Daryl loved to read, and when they talked for hours about their favorite books and argued about plotlines and character relationships Beth felt like she had found a pretty good friend. 

She wasn’t sure if it was because they were alone and they only had each other, or if they actually got along that well. 

He wasn’t nearly as open with his thoughts as she was, but she knew that would take time. She didn’t want to push him to become something he was not, someone who was talkative and open about everything because she quite liked the way he was already. 

She had heard nearly everything there ever was to know about Merle, his brother, and besides the drug problems and misogynistic tendencies, he sounded like a good man at heart. From what she could gather from his scattered stories, he had essentially raised Daryl after their mom had died and their dad started disappearing for weeks at a time. 

Beth wanted to believe that if Merle Dixon could raise someone as kind and funny as Daryl, he couldn’t be nearly as bad as he sounded. She was shocked to learn that they were nearly twenty years apart, that he was technically old enough to be Daryl’s dad. He told her that he relished in the moments where someone would ask if Daryl was his son, that he loved making Merle feel old. 

They never really spoke about his abuse. They occasionally spoke about his mom, that she had been sweet but flighty, drowning her sorrows in liquor instead of taking care of her children. They never spoke about Will Dixon. 

Beth had figured out that he was extremely claustrophobic, to the point of pushing himself into hyperventilation when they had to quickly hide in a supply closet when a herd came past a gas station they were scavenging. He had thrown himself into a full-blown panic attack, throwing up into the bushes outside afterward. Beth wasn’t sure if she wanted to know what he had endured that would cause a reaction like that. 

She was growing to hate Will Dixon with a burning passion every day. She also wanted to go back and tell her parents that she was sorry for ever saying something rude or talking back because she now knew that she could have had it a lot worse. 

Daryl’s voice startled her out of her thoughts. 

“Beth? Are you listening?” He said, a little exasperated, and she saw that he was looking at her to answer a question she obviously hadn’t heard. Did he say something earlier? 

That was another thing. She wasn’t sure when it happened, but he had started calling her Beth. It was thrown in with an occasional _ bitch _ or  _ princess _ , but it didn’t matter because it was nice to hear her name from his mouth. 

“What was I supposed to be listening to, exactly?” She questioned, kicking another pile of leaves, it didn’t go as far as the last one. She supposed being on the road tired a person out. She hadn’t written in her diary in weeks. 

“I said, there’s a gas station over there,” He stated, stopping and whistling for Gus to come over. He no longer grumbled or mumbled things at her, speaking at a higher volume. He had gotten too comfortable with her, she mused. 

“Should we go?” She was a little hesitant because of what happened the last time they scavenged, but how long could she hold out?

“That’s what I asked you,” He rolled his eyes, planting his feet in front of her, “Are you okay?” 

Was she? Her mental health wasn’t too shabby for not having a roof over her head. She was a little hungry and cold, but she was fine. 

“Yep, I think I’m just catching a cold or something. I’ve been tired for a few days now.” She said, placing her hands on her hips and leaning her head back to look into his eyes. They were both comfortable with eye contact now, thank God. 

He was too tall. Or she was too short, either or.

She rolled her eyes as she watched him raise his hand to her forehead to check her temperature. She shot him a small smile, which he returned. Yes, her mental health was doing just fine. 

“Let me know if you feel bad? I still have that medicine from the highway,” He said, digging around in his backpack that was covered in dirt and blood. The creeks were too cold to wash off in and it was not worth risking hypothermia for a quick bath. It had been a few weeks since they left the house and Beth had started to feel gross, but she was too cold to even think about putting a toe in the freezing cold water. 

Winter was coming to an end, she only wished it would hurry the hell up. 

“It’s not that bad,” She held her hand up in protest, trying to get him to stop searching for the medicine bottle. She hated using the little supplies they had with them. 

“Yeah, sure, last time you said that you had a dislocated shoulder.” He glared, and she shivered at the thought of that pain she had felt a few weeks prior. They had been walking on a road when Beth lost her footing on a patch of ice and ate it--she felt a sharp pain but ignored it in favor of moving on. They had just gotten out of the sports center where Daryl had been overrun and she was still shaken up about it. 

Turns out, she had dislocated her shoulder. Daryl, sadly, knowing how to pop one back into place, did it while she bit into a stick. It wasn’t one of her proudest moments. 

“I’ll let you know, I promise,” She said, in attempts to placate his worry. He nodded in acceptance, still not looking convinced, which she chose to ignore--and they moved towards the gas station together.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Beth let out a moan of pain as she reached under the counter of the grimy gas station. If she moved her shoulder just right, it hurt like hell. She wasn’t about to tell Daryl that in fear of having Ibuprofen shoved down her throat. 

Gus sat loyally behind her, wagging his tail. Once again, Beth wondered if the dog had a central nervous system or experienced emotions. 

She felt her hands grip around something hard and cold--if it was what she thought it was when she saw the glint of steel under the counter, she’d hit big money. 

“Aha!” She held up her prize in the sunlight and looked around for Daryl, who had disappeared into the depths of the 7/11. 

“What’d you do,” She heard him sigh, said more as a statement than a question. She did get herself into some pretty funny situations if she was being honest. His exasperation was either really sad or really funny. 

“Not what I did, what I found! Come look!” She told him, pushing back the slight dizzying worry she felt when she held the pistol in her hand. She hadn’t touched a gun since the farm when Lori had shoved hers into Beth’s hands. 

“Where the fuck did you find that?” He said, moving through the aisles quicker than he had before, having to step around Gus as he stood next to her. 

“It was under the counter; I couldn’t tell what it was. What do we do with it?” She wondered, because what was the point of a gun if you never really used one? Daryl had his crossbow and she was just getting used to maneuvering a knife around well enough to say that she was comfortable with one in her hand. Guns were just too loud. 

“We keep it, just in case.” He shrugged and she shivered. She didn’t want to think about what  _ just in case _ entailed. She was going good; they were doing good. She desperately needed to change the conversation to something lighter. 

“Did you find anything?” She sighed, handing him the gun. He could figure out what to do with it, she just didn’t want it in her hands any longer. 

Most of the gas stations had been wiped clean, but from looking around this one seemed to have a few useful snacks. Beth had found a few flashlights with new batteries near the cash register and swiped a pack of gum. She didn’t have a toothbrush, sadly. 

“Some food,” He held out a few packets of beef jerky and dried fruit--which she stuffed into her bag. She kept the food, he kept the extra clothes and gear. 

Old fruit was better than the nearly raw raccoon they ate a few days ago because they couldn’t get a good enough fire going to cook it. Beth was still picking dried blood from under her fingernails. 

“Give me your arm,” He told her suddenly, and she raised her eyebrows in question until she saw the small smirk on his face. She pulled up her right arm and watched as he leaned down to dampen the bandana he always had tied to his belt loop with one of their water bottles. He slapped a piece of paper on the inside of her wrist and she wondered what it was for a few moments--right on top of the vertical scar that had faded to a light pink color. He pressed down for a few minutes, the silence between them comforting and familiar. 

She had closed her eyes, enjoying the peaceful moment and listening to their breathing when she felt his hand let go of her wrist, and she peeked down at the scar. She was just now able to wear her sleeves pushed up without wanted to puke. 

It was now covered by a butterfly tattoo, its wings a light blue color. 

“Now you can’t try and say you’ve never gotten a tattoo.” He explained, giving her a small smile before disappearing back into the shelves. She let out a small laugh, gently touching the wings of the butterfly. 

“No, I can’t.” 

She heard a rustle from somewhere in the back of the store and then his voice, “Now come be useful and look for food, you little brat,” 

Ah, brat was new. 


	9. Claimers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: ATTEMPTED RAPE

_ It was now covered by a butterfly tattoo, its wings a light blue color.  _

_ “Now you can’t try and say you’ve never gotten a tattoo.” He explained, giving her a small smile before disappearing back into the shelves. She let out a small laugh, gently touching the wings of the butterfly.  _

_ “No, I can’t.”  _

_ She heard a rustle from somewhere in the back of the store and then his voice, “Now come be useful and look for food, you little brat,”  _

_ Ah, brat was new. _

_ _ “Never have I ever skipped a class?” Beth offered, trying to talk as much as she could in an attempt to stop the chattering of her teeth. Her words sounded a bit slurred around her tongue, frozen from the cold air. She and Daryl were squashed against one another, having gotten over their issues with personal space a few days after sleeping in the cold. Gus was curled in-between their legs, snoring lightly. 

Their fire was pitiful, but it was still warmer than nothing. Daryl told her that the ground was too wet from the ice and frost that the fire wasn’t catching--but even if it was small, it kept them warm enough to sleep in shifts and gave just enough light to see around the perimeter of their makeshift camp. 

She had started to notice that Daryl would talk to her while he did things, like setting traps or starting fires, explaining what things did and how to set things up to do this or that. She realized pretty soon after he had started doing it that it was his way of trying to teach her things. They did figure out something, though. Beth sucked at starting fires, no matter if she had a lighter or not, the thing would just die out. So, it was officially Daryl’s job to build and keep up fires, much like it had been at the farmhouse. 

She was grateful that he was trying to teach her things, even small things like what winter roots were edible and which ones were edible but nasty. Now, she could build and reset simple traps they would lay out if they were planning on staying in a certain area for a day or two. She knew how to build a shelter out of sticks and tarps if it was raining or snowing. She knew which trees were best for climbing and to stay away from skinny branches, even if she was small. 

She felt better than she ever had, well, not physically, since she felt like she was coming down with something, but she felt like she was confident in herself and her ability to  _ do something _ since forever. 

“Point for you,” Daryl said, adjusting the blanket that had slipped off of Beth as she shuffled. 

“What are we up to now?” She questioned, it was kind of pointless, neither of them wrote down their scores so they relied mostly on memory--which wasn’t too great either. She was sure a few points had been missed or forgotten, but all she cared about was that she was finally catching up to him. Her strategy of being an innocent teenage girl had been paying off these last few days. 

“Eighties or nineties, at least,” He said, Beth thought that sounded about right. 

They slipped into another comfortable silence after that, only the sound of Gus’ light breathing and the occasional hoot of an owl. Their metal can perimeter was dangling through the trees, the cans reflecting the warm light from their tiny fire. 

The firelight cast them both in a warm glow, the flickers of the wood sending shadows dancing across Daryl’s face. Even if they were cold, slightly damp, and muddy, he was still beautiful like this. 

Beth desperately wanted to know how Daryl would react to being called  _ beautiful _ , but he was. He wasn’t traditionally beautiful, like in the movies. He didn’t have the perfectly coiffed hair and porcelain skin, he had messy curly hair that tangled when you tried to brush it out and olive skin that freckled in the sun. His nose had obviously been broken a few times and he had scars on his face where the skin had opened and closed multiple times without stitches. She liked the scars, though.

He was huge, even if they were usually hungry and on the run, his bulk stayed. She felt like his shoulders were as wide as she was tall and his legs went on forever. When they had been bored one day and he taught her to climb trees, seeing humongous Daryl Dixon perched on a branch like an owl with his huge body curled up had sent Beth into a fit of giggles that nearly caused her to fall out of the tree. 

He was beautiful and he was her friend, and no one else would have Daryl Dixon if she had any say so. 

_ Wow, Beth, you really are feverish, aren’t you,  _ she thought. 

Daryl caught her staring and she gave him a small smile, which he returned after a raise of his brow. 

“Do you think Christmas has already passed?” She asked, wondering if he kept track of the days. She had stopped long ago, only the number of entries in her diary giving her some ideas. It didn’t help much since she skipped days or even weeks at a time without writing one. She felt it burning a hole into her backpack while they searched for a place to hunker down for the rest of winter. She had grabbed it from the kitchen table before they ran from the farmhouse and hadn’t touched it since. 

“Probably,” He whispered, shrugging his shoulders. She leaned her head against him and sighed, patting Gus on the head. She suddenly remembered that Daryl’s birthday had been sometime in December. 

“How does it feel to be a year away from thirty?” She questioned, teasing. He shifted his shoulder so that her head bounced around, and she laughed. 

“Never thought I’d be spendin’ it with a blonde brat and an animal,” He whispered dryly. 

“I’m really a brat?” She questioned, tugging on the end of her braid. She tugged a small leaf out of the ends, scrunching her face up. She missed showering. 

“I was talking about Gus,” He admitted, letting out a small laugh at her face--she glared. 

“I am not an animal!” 

“I saw you tear into that old Snickers bar yesterday, I’ve only seen shit like that on  _ Planet Earth _ .” He joked, and Beth blushed. It wasn’t her fault that she hadn’t seen chocolate for months and got excited. 

They both laughed for a few more moments, and Beth smiled. 

“Happy Birthday,” She told him, earnestly. She wondered if he ever celebrated his birthday as a kid, if he had cake and presents. Probably not. 

“Thanks,” He picked at his nails, always awkward, “What was your last Christmas like?” 

His question surprised Beth, he never really engaged in her ramblings, never really asked questions. He was always good at shifting the conversation away from himself, that was a given. She always let him. 

She didn’t really know where to start, last Christmas with her family felt like it was an eternity ago. A different lifetime. 

“It was really quiet. Shawn was at school and Maggie didn’t come back from Atlanta, so it was just me and my parents.” It had been really nice, her mother baking cookies and a small Christmas dinner while her dad put up the tree in the living room. She got a few records that she had asked for and a pair of pearl earrings. They had been laying on her nightstand in her jewelry dish, abandoned and forgotten when the farm fell. She wished she had them, at least as a keepsake. 

They slipped into silence again, Beth almost slipped and asked Daryl what his Christmases were like as a kid, but she guessed that wouldn’t be something he would want to talk about. She hoped that if they ever found someplace to call home, someplace permanent, they could celebrate together. With Gus, of course. 

The topic of her thoughts shifted and groaned in between their legs, stretching before trotting off into the woods to presumably use the bathroom. 

“Merry Christmas, Daryl,” 

“Merry Christmas, Beth,” 

She burrowed her head deeper into his shoulder, feeling warm for the first time in weeks. She was about to ask him to teach her a few more constellations a branch cracked in the woods. 

“Look what we got here, boys,” A voice said, buried somewhere within the sleeping trees and echoing out into the small clearing. 

Daryl had yanked Beth up from her comfortable spot within the roots of the pine tree so fast that her vision blurred around the edges and her shoulder burned in protest. She had broken out in a cold sweat a few hours after they left the gas station, her fingers jittery and her throat sore. She guessed that she would have to take Daryl up on that medicine soon. 

Her knife felt heavy on her thigh, matching the heaviness in her limbs as her fingers ran over the edges of the holster, the fake leather beginning to gray and rot. She hoped Gus was far, far away. 

Beth continued to shake, the heat from Daryl’s body was gone, as they listened to the sounds in the forest, the sound of footsteps marching their way. Daryl grabbed her then, pushing her behind his large frame and against the bark of the tree. 

“Stay behind me, you understand?” He ordered and she nodded her head, placing her hand on the handle of her knife. Daryl pointed his crossbow into the woods, scanning. 

A man stepped out of the woods, nearly a head shorter than Daryl, his hair and beard graying around the edges. His hands were held up in mock surrender. The smile on his face made Beth uncomfortable.

A few more men filtered out of the trees around them, like shadows of fish slipping through creek water. There were five of them, varying ages. How long had they been standing in the woods, watching them? 

The man - the leader, apparently, stepped closer to them. Daryl held his crossbow higher and Beth could see the aiming mechanism, aimed at the middle of the man’s forehead. Beth turned her head to quickly scan the woods behind them because they didn’t seem like the kind of group that would think ambushes were unethical. 

“Now, now, let’s all calm down. We’re not here to cause trouble.” The man said, his voice greasy and rough--the kind you heard in those crime shows when the investigators went to a strip club or jail. It made Beth shiver. He crept closer, holding his hands a bit higher in peace. 

“Don’t know how y’all got a fire going, so damp out ‘ere, mind if we sit with you for a bit to warm up?” The man asked, and Beth wondered what world he was living in because people just didn’t go around asking for small talk around a campfire anymore. 

“We’re about to keep walking anyway, y’all can have this spot,” Daryl said, his crossbow never lowered from the man’s forehead. 

“Traveling in the dark? Lots of monsters wandering around out there in the shadows, kid.” 

_ Yeah, you, _ Beth thought. 

“We’ll be alright,”  _ Go away _ , it said,  _ we don’t want to talk to you. _

_ _ He continued anyway, “We have some food, some good company, we’ll make it worth your while, promise.” The man gave them a smile and Beth was sure he thought his smile was charming, that it made someone feel welcome, it made her want to vomit. 

The man held his hand out towards Daryl’s chest to shake, far too close. Daryl ignored his hand, but lowered his crossbow just a bit, still high enough for an arrow to pierce one of their necks. It made Beth feel a bit better that he wasn’t letting his guard down. 

They hadn’t spoken or interacted with another human being in what, six, maybe seven months? The closest they had been to human interaction was the men outside of the farmhouse. Beth wasn’t sure if she would ever feel entirely comfortable around other people, especially larger groups. 

“Riley? Go get some firewood, this fire needs some work,” 

A rather large member of the group disappeared into the woods, while the others started ditching their supplies in piles - moving closer to her and Daryl. 

“Name’s Joe, where y’all coming from?” 

“Atlanta.” Daryl snipped. 

“Ah, Riley came from there, said it was a shitshow.” 

Daryl didn’t respond to his attempts at small talk. 

The man--Joe? She didn’t want to call him by his given name, she decided. He clapped his hands together and a smile broke out on his face at the sight of the firewood in Riley’s hands. The sound echoed through the trees and caused both Daryl and Beth to flinch. They never made loud noises. 

“We’ll just keep moving, let you guys have this spot,” Daryl spoke suddenly, grabbing her wrist and picking up her backpack from behind her, sliding it over her shoulders. 

“No, no, we insist. Some company would be nice, haven’t seen anyone in weeks. Please,” He gestured towards the spot closest to him, further away from where they had been sitting originally, his eyes were on Beth, though. 

“Sit.” 

Beth squeezed Daryl’s elbow, they had been together long enough that he would know what it meant. They needed to stay and humor Joe for a while, then get the hell out of dodge. She didn’t think the man would let up anytime soon. 

More importantly, when did Beth become so untrusting of other people? That was a thought for another day, for sure. 

Daryl turned his head to look at her face, and she nodded. 

So, they slowly sunk down into their spots. Their backs were rigged and their hands were clenched around their weapons, but they sat. Her hand was still in the crook of Daryl’s elbow. 

The man asked them quiet questions that Daryl answered with short, one-worded answers while the rest of the group toiled around them. The problem was, they didn’t look like they were doing  _ anything.  _ Playing with sticks and kicking dirt around. Beth could feel their eyes on her, on her hand that rested in the crook of Daryl’s arm. 

“What’s your name, son?” 

“Don’t think that’s important,” Daryl whispered, eyes following the men stomping around the clearing, wasting time. 

“Ah,” He sighed, clasping his hands over his knees, “so we’re playing that game.” He smiled again, wider this time and his eyes flicked right to Beth. 

“What about you, gorgeous? You’re awfully pretty, aren’t you?” His eyes slid back to Daryl’s face, questioning, “Does she talk?” 

“When she wants to,” Beth answered, her hand clenching the handle of her knife tighter. She was sure her knuckles were beginning to turn white. 

“Feisty, I like that in a woman,” The man said. 

_ Gross.  _

It was silent for a long while, an uncomfortable, tense sort of silence that affected your breathing. The other men had stopped moving around, all seated around their leader like a twisted clergy. The man who was sent to get firewood played around with the twigs he had collected, Beth decided that he wasn’t doing a very good job at adding to their fire. 

One of the men, the smallest of the bunch, but the fattest, suddenly spoke in a weasel-like voice that was directed towards Daryl. 

“Is she yours?” He asked. 

His? What the hell was that supposed to mean? Did they think she was his daughter or something? Surely, she didn’t look that young. Daryl didn’t look that old either. 

“Yeah,” another one added, the biggest one, “she’s a nice one, tiny,” 

Oh. Oh, no. 

Beth saw Daryl’s jaw clench, his fingers playing with the trigger of his bow. 

“Just traveling together, got separated from our group,” Daryl responded and Beth nearly raised her eyebrows in question because they hadn’t looked for the group in months--but then realized why he had said it like that. It made it seem like someone would be looking for them. 

“Shame, she’s a pretty one, ain’t she, Joe?” 

Another one pitched in then, the one closest to Daryl. He reached out towards Daryl’s curls, the ones that were nearly past his shoulders. 

“He ain’t too bad either,” 

Daryl jerked back into Beth when he saw the grubby hand reaching for his face. Beth wrapped her arms around his waist, pulling him further away from whatever  _ that was.  _

_ _ Beth stood up suddenly, heart racing and vision blurring, “We’ll get going now,” giving the leader what she hoped was a sweet smile, “Have a good night,” 

Daryl moved to stand, so did they. 

“Oh, come on, sweetcheeks, don’t make this harder than it already is,” Joe said, in an attempt to placate them--with what, telling them it was hard to toy with living people who were just trying to survive. She knew what they were doing, intimidating them, waiting for their guard to be let down.

“We’re leaving,” Daryl said, determined, jaw clenched. His crossbow was back up now, aimed at Joe’s chest. 

“You two are no fun, usually they’re begging by now, offering us stuff,” 

Beth felt faint, and she wasn’t sure if it was because she was sick or the situation they were stuck in. All she knew for sure was that they had to leave, now. 

Before she could move another step, everyone seemed to move at once, in a big blur. One of the men, the biggest one, reached out to grab her arm to pull her out of Daryl’s reach but her foot caught on one of the roots of the tree and she fell to her knees. She heard Daryl shout something and then the sound of a gun’s safety clicking, watching as all of the men moved towards them and a smile spread across Joe’s face. 

“Come on, it’ll be fun,” 

She felt the hand around her arm tighten, hard enough to bruise and she let out a whimper of pain and heard the sound of Daryl’s crossbow firing, the thunk as it sunk into flesh. The hand suddenly released and she turned her head just in time to see the man crumble to the ground, an arrow in his eye. 

_ Always aim for the eye, don’t damage the meat,  _ Daryl had told her once. All hell broke loose when the man’s eyes glazed over. 

She felt Daryl being jerked away from her, the sound of a punch landing a good hit. 

“Run, Beth!” Daryl shouted, but before her brain could process what was happening a hand latched onto her hair and dragged her into the middle of the clearing, away from the tree, away from Daryl. 

She remembered thinking that when the farm fell, time didn’t slow down like it did in the movies. When things went wrong, really wrong, time just ran with it and there was nothing that you could do to stop it. She knew she was right all those months ago now because she couldn’t distinguish anything around her as she was dragged by her hair through the mud. 

All the shit that could have happened to them, torn apart by walking corpses, starvation, pneumonia--and this is how they were going to die, sprawled out in the leaves, a place where no one would find them. 

Beth struggled as the man dragged her through the leaves, she could feel the mud soaking into the back of her jeans, the sting of her hair being pulled too hard. Another hand wrapped around her shoulder, the bad one, and jerked her into a kneeling position. Tears of pain clouded her vision, both from her hair and shoulder. She could feel someone behind her, the hot breath on her neck. Their hands were grabby and cold, and she struggled when one of his hands slid across her chest, even if it was covered with a few layers of clothing. The hand moved to her neck and squeezed, blacking out her vision for a few seconds. 

Joe stood in front of her, the other two men holding a struggling Daryl by his shoulders as they pushed him to his knees to mirror her. Joe held a gun to his head. She could see Daryl’s crossbow lying abandoned towards the side of the clearing, lying next to the dead man. 

Beth flinched every time Joe moved the gun closer to Daryl’s temple, every time the metal hit his skin. She hoped once again that Gus saw the danger and ran, that he knew that his humans wouldn’t have been mad if he did. Beth couldn’t bear to see him get hurt. Joe pointed the gun at her, smiling. 

“Now, pretty lady, you’re going to play nice. Cause if you don’t you’re going to get to watch your little travel buddy get a bullet blown into his brain,” He dug the tip of the chamber into Daryl’s temple, hard enough to bruise, “We clear?” 

Daryl continued to struggle, and it looked like the men were having a hard time keeping him still, but their hands were on his shoulders like shackles. One of them landed a harsh kick to his ribs, but not before Daryl swung one of his feet out from under him, causing one of the men to crumple to the ground in a heap. He had almost gotten to his feet when the chamber of Joe’s gun pressed into his forehead. Daryl’s hesitation gave the man he had knocked over enough time to readjust himself. 

“You’re a troublemaker, aren’t you? Gorgeous, why don’t you tell him to calm down, huh? ‘Cause from the show y’all are giving, you aren’t just travel buddies, are you?” 

If Daryl didn’t stop fighting back, he would be shot, Beth realized. 

She nodded and shivered as that nasty smile spread across his face. She wondered if he felt happy, proud of what he had become. Beth’s glaring was interrupted by Daryl’s voice. 

“Leave her alone! Kill me, do whatever you want to me, just let her go,” He begged, struggling against the hold of the two men. Beth felt tears well up in her eyes at his words, that he would be willing to die just to see her go free. She wouldn’t leave him alone, though. Not like this, not ever. 

“Daryl, it’s okay,” Beth told him, her voice shaky and uneven. The hand on her hair pulled tighter and she let out a sharp noise of pain. Daryl struggled against their grip at the noise, but he wasn’t fighting back as much as before. 

Joe sauntered over to Beth, leaning down to her height to caress her cheek. She clenched her eyes shut because she wasn’t going to let this man see her cry. If she cried, Daryl would get himself killed. 

“We’re not going to do anything to you, son. Were gonna make you watch.” He smirked, pushing a stray curl that had fallen out of her braid behind her ears. She could feel the man behind her using his free hand to feel up her hips. 

She felt a surge of anger, anger because these kinds of men thrived in this world--took every opportunity to make it worse than it already was. They took everything because they could. So, she did what anyone would do. 

She spit in his face. 

“Fuck you,” She snarled, pulling against the hold on her hair to look him right in the eyes. For someone who had never spit on another person, her aim was pretty good. She wasn’t going to cry, though, she wasn’t going to give them that victory. 

Joe had the audacity to look appalled at her actions as if he hadn’t ambushed them and dragged them out into the middle of the clearing. She flinched when he pulled his hand back and slapped her across the cheek, unwittingly bringing tears to her eyes.

She heard Daryl struggle and cuss out the two men holding him and she tasted blood in her mouth, but still held eye contact with the man in front of her. 

“Get to work, Mark. We don’t have all night,” 

She felt rough hands pull her to the ground, slamming her head onto the forest floor. She struggled to slip out of his grip, kicking and punching at the heavy body above her. She spit the blood out of her mouth onto the man’s face, coating him in a thin layer of blood. 

He pulled back from her, wiping the blood from his eyes and glaring, before she could try to slip out from underneath him he pulled his hand back into a fist and punched her square in the face. 

Her vision blurred and her head spun. Her ears rang as she felt the blood pour from her nose, into her mouth and eyes. She could hear shouting from where Daryl was, but her head buzzed and her vision was so cloudy from her own blood that she couldn’t see two feet in front of her. 

She had always read stories about girls who were raped, followed the too few trials that were covered in newspapers. Her mother had even bought her a book that taught girls how to avoid it. She always thought that it was stupid, why teach girls how to avoid it when they don’t go out looking for it in the first place? 

Her ears had stopped ringing enough that she could just barely hear Joe cussing out Daryl, the sound of punches landing hits on skin. Her head ached, but she still kicked and screamed at the man on top of her. It did nothing as he ripped her hoodie off of her shoulders, leaving her in a t-shirt that rode up to her chest after all of her struggling. 

There were no good people left, were there? 

No. Daryl was a good man. Rick was a good man, so was Glenn. Her dad, her sister, Shawn. They were all good people, and she wasn’t going to let these people win. 

But how?

She felt a hand on the waistline of her jeans, tugging at the button until it came undone. Her jeans were somehow around her knees before she had time to fight against it, the ice on the ground causing a shiver up her spine. 

She let out a scream when the cold hands went around her waist, pulling her towards the warm body that was poking and prodding at her. She heard more scuffling and shouting over to her left, and she tried to turn her head around to see if Daryl was alright when the man grabbed her head and slammed it back to the ground. 

She let out a moan in pain, her vision blurry and stained with red when she heard a low growl from somewhere within the trees. She wanted to laugh because how much worse could it get with a walker added to the mix? The man turned towards the sound and Beth saw a shadow lunge towards the man’s arm, latching down with teeth and pulling with all of its might. 

Gus gave her enough time to kick the man in the crotch and slip out from underneath his body, enough time to frantically crawl over to Daryl’s backpack and unzip the front pocket to grab the gun. 

_ Just in case _ , she heard. 

It felt awful in her hands, cold and unforgiving. It seemed like she would never get used to that feeling. But it didn’t matter, because she had a way to get them out. 

So she spun around and fired. 


	10. River

_ Just in case, she heard. _

_ It felt awful in her hands, cold and unforgiving. It seemed like she would never get used to that feeling. But it didn’t matter, because she had a way to get them out. _

_ So she spun around and fired._

It had been so long since she had heard gunfire, the boom that was so dangerous nowadays, that her ears rang as she watched the man who had tried to rape her fall to the forest floor. The blood that spurted from the gunshot on his neck splattered onto Beth and Gus. 

_Good riddance, asshole. _

Gus, her little hero, ran to stand beside her, growling at the group of men who had stopped beating on Daryl long enough to look towards her in shock. Gus’ teddy bear was strapped onto his plaid coat, tucked into one of the buckles after Beth had been worried that he would set it down and lose it once they were in the woods. His cherished toy was now splattered with that man’s blood. She would have to wash it when they found a creek or river. Beth pulled up her jeans and adjusted her shirt, shooting a nasty glare at the man currently bleeding out on the ground. 

Hot, white anger flared in Beth’s chest when she saw Daryl, still held up by the two men as before. Blood was running from his eyebrow and nose, bruises already forming on his face and temples. He was spitting blood out of his mouth onto the ground, and he looked too out of it to realize what Beth had done. 

It seemed that the shock of seeing a ninety-pound girl and her dog take down a full-grown man was too much for the other men to process because before they could react; Beth fired at them too. 

The first shot missed its mark by a longshot, but what was because she was worried about hitting Daryl and not the others. She tried to ignore how she still closed her eyes whenever she fired the gun, how she flinched every time she pulled the trigger. She didn’t think that her gut reaction was ever going away. 

By some miracle or adrenaline, she wasn't sure which, she hit one of the men that was holding Daryl back. It gave him enough time to swing a nasty punch at the other one holding his shoulder, knocking him to the ground and kicking him in the head hard enough to knock him out. 

Joe seemed to be having issues with the safety on his gun because he was cursing as Daryl attacked him. She realized after a few punches that Daryl was aiming to kill. She moved to grab his shoulder, pulling him back from the man that was now on the ground. 

“Daryl, he’s not worth it,” She whispered, pulling him back. Joe was on his knees now, spitting blood, the gun was a few feet away, out of his reach. 

Daryl spun around, eyes shining with unshed tears and blood running down his face. His eyes scanned her body, hands running over her face and shoulders, looking for injuries. His touch was comforting and warm, so unlike the touches before. 

His eyes looked frantic, having taken in just how much blood she was covered in, hers and the dead man’s, and her injuries. 

“Are you okay? Where are you bleeding? Are you alright?” He stammered, pushing her hair back from her eyes and prodding gently at her nose and the bump on the back of her head from being slammed into the ground repeatedly. Beth thought that her scalp would be sore for weeks from all of the hair-pulling. 

“I’m okay, promise,’ She told him and he nodded, but continued checking her injuries anyway, patting Gus on the head when he trotted over towards them, growling at the man now on his knees. 

“Y’all are really cute,” Joe spat, wiping the blood from his chin. He shot a nasty smile at Beth, his teeth covered in blood and she grimaced. 

“Don’t make this harder than it already is, you hear?” Beth said, parroting his words back to him. Her hands clenched a little too tight around the trigger of the gun. What was the phrase Shane used back on the farm? Trigger happy. She was trigger happy, running on too much adrenaline. 

Daryl quickly ran (or hobbled, he was in rough shape) to pick up his crossbow, dusting off the shaft and throwing it up to aim at Joe’s head. 

They needed to get out of there quickly. The sound of gunshots and shouting would have attracted every walker for miles and that was not something they had the strength to deal with right now. 

“Just get it over with,” Joe spat. 

“No, we’re going to let you watch,” Daryl told him, kicking Joe’s legs and gesturing towards the tree she and Daryl had been seated under when they found them. He had a rope in his hands, taken from their can alarm. 

“Watch what?” 

“The walkers come for you,” Daryl growled, grabbing Joe by the arm and dragging him through the leaves to the pine tree. Beth helped tie him down as best as she could, but Daryl did most of the work. The world was beginning to spin around Beth, her strength wearing off with her adrenaline. Beth had to restrain herself from making a boy scouts joke, the whole _ Scouts Honor _thing, you know? 

They heard the moans of walkers closeby, and Daryl slung both of their packs over his shoulder, leaving the can alarm wrapped around the trees. They could make another one easily. 

He looked her up and down once more and his eyebrows scrunched up, and Beth realized that she was in a t-shirt that was ripped and bloody. 

Daryl searched the ground for her hoodie, finding it in a tangled, muddy heap next to the man who had attacked her. He bent down to retrieve it but she spoke before he could grasp the fabric fully. 

“I don’t want it,” She whispered, she didn’t want any of the clothes she was wearing right now. She didn’t really have a choice but to wear them until they found somewhere safe to change, though. 

Daryl looked at her for a moment and nodded, but took out his extra sweatshirt from his backpack and handed it to her, ordering her to put it on. She took it gratefully, cringing as she stained the fabric with dirt and blood, but she was warmer now. 

“Got everything?” Daryl asked her, whistling at Gus to come, away from the clearing. They didn’t bother taking care of the man who was still unconscious, the walkers would take care of him. 

They ignored the shouts and curses of the man tied to the tree, instead, Daryl led Beth through the woods in the opposite direction, away from whatever the hell had just happened. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After a few hours of walking, they stumbled upon a river that looked clean enough to wash off in. The sun was beginning to rise, but it wasn’t as cold as it had been the day before and Beth was desperate to wash at least some of the grime off of her skin. 

They had been quiet since they left the clearing, only Daryl’s occasional questions of _are you alright _and _are you sure you're okay _to fill the silence. Beth felt like her brain was still trying to process what happened. Plus, the blood from her nose had gone into her eyes and they stung like a bitch, so she was too focused on rubbing them until the sharp pain was just a burning sensation. 

When Daryl threw down their bags next to the river, Beth took that as confirmation that they would stop there. She collapsed onto the grass, twirling the damp greenery through her fingers. 

The winter sun sparkled on the surface of the river, bubbling and twirling as it moved quickly through the woods. Beth took a deep breath of the cold air, desperately missing the feeling of running through the fields around the farmhouse, she wished she could just take off and run.

Daryl leaned down next to her with one of his bandanas in his hand, stretching so he could dampen it in the river. He rung it out and placed it in her hands, freezing cold from the water. 

“Do you want me to clean the blood off?” He asked, keeping a safe distance away from her, just close enough to where he could reach out and grab her if need be. She knew what he was doing, he was worried about scaring her, about touching her. 

She nodded, too tired to vocalize everything that just ran through her mind, and he took the bandana from her hands and began to gently dab it onto her face, scrubbing the already dried blood as best as he could. 

“I don’t think your nose is broken, just bleedin’,” Daryl told her, and she trusted his decision, but it definitely hurt. She couldn’t imagine how it would feel if she had to sneeze. He wiped the blood from around her nose and eyes, holding the back of her head with his other hand as if she might fall apart and break. 

Was he expecting her to fall apart? To start crying? Beth guessed that someone who had almost been raped would be crying, but she didn’t feel like that. She didn’t feel like crying, she just felt tired. 

“You probably have a concussion,” Daryl whispered, letting go of her head and moving towards his backpack, which he took a familiar medicine bottle out of, “Here,” He handed her three pills, and she swallowed them without water gratefully. 

“You’re hurt too,” Beth rasped, her scratchy voice surprising her. She must have screamed a lot more than she thought. 

Daryl shrugged, knelt down in front of her in the grass. The sun beamed off of his face, causing the blood dripping down his eyebrow to almost glimmer in the sunlight. 

“Give it,” She ordered, shuffling towards the river bed to wet the bandana again. Daryl went with her so that she didn’t have to scoot back to him, which she was grateful for. 

She dabbed at his eyebrow, trying to clot the blood. She remembered her daddy telling her that head and face wounds bled a lot, but we’re fine. Daryl’s skin was just split, not too deep. He would probably just need some antibiotic ointment and a bandaid. 

She wiped the blood around his nose off, rewetting the cloth when she realized she was just smearing blood across his face. His lip was cut in one place, but it wasn’t bleeding any more. 

“Are you okay?” She whispered, her hand dropping into her lap. She hadn’t seen what had happened to him after she had been dragged into the middle of the clearing. She heard a lot of punches. 

“‘M fine,” He whispered, taking a deep breath. He cringed as he did so, and she raised her eyebrows at him even if it hurt to do so. 

“They kicked my side, probably just bruised.” He told her, moving to stand and get away from her when she grabbed his elbow just in time to pull him back down. He rolled his eyes but allowed her to prod at his sides with her fingers. She remembered doing this to a dog in her dad’s clinic, not a human. How different could it be? 

She didn’t touch his bare skin, merely felt over his t-shirt underneath his coat. He groaned as she touched one of his upper ribs, the skin swollen and bruised. She hoped it would heal on its own. 

“Take some medicine too,” Beth offered, picking up the bottle from the grass and tossing it into his hand. She watched him until she was sure he had swallowed them. 

He got up from the grass with a quiet grimace, walking over to their bags to dig for food and refill their water bottles in the river. Beth clicked her tongue until Gus was in front of her, unbuckling his toy from his coat and moving to wash it in the river. 

She scrubbed at the fabric until the blood began to stain the water, watching as it swirled around her hands in pretty patterns and wispy shapes. That wasn’t walker blood, it wasn’t her own blood. She had killed someone, a living, breathing person. 

Beth stared at the blood as it seeped into the crevices in her hands and her fingers went cold from the water. Gus whined from her side, watching in misery as his toy was submerged in the river. 

Beth felt her hands begin to shake and she dropped the teddy bear on the grass next to her without ringing it out, not wanting to see the blood anymore. She had almost been raped, attacked by the men that surrounded them and almost killed Daryl--the only person she had left. 

She didn’t have her family any more, she didn’t know where they were or if they were even together. She didn’t have a group to rely on, to talk to and feel safe with. She had Daryl, and she almost lost him because of some arrogant assholes with a complex. It could have been so much worse, they could have shot Daryl and then just grabbed her, off to do God knows what to her. 

She felt like a kid, not knowing what to do or say. She didn’t like those feelings. How did people react to these situations before the world burnt to the ground? How did people react now, if they made it out alive? Did you cry? Did you scream? Or did you just keep going because there was no other choice? Beth was beginning to worry that it was the last option. 

Tears streamed down her cheeks, burning her eyes and stinging the small cut on her lip from Joe’s slap. She stared at her hands, the watered-down blood seeping into the crevices of her palm. Even if the gun was now stowed back in Daryl’s backpack, along with Joe’s gun, she still felt the weight in her hands.

“Do you want your other pair of jeans?” Daryl suddenly asked, but Beth couldn’t really hear him. 

It finally sunk in and she let out a sob, burying her face into her hands as an onslaught of agony and pain pounded at her chest. They could have died, those men could have shot Daryl and Beth would have been alone, suffering as she was assaulted over and over. 

She heard the grass rustle as Daryl came over to check on her, placing a hand on her shoulder, warm and heavy. 

“You’re okay now, promise,” He whispered, and she felt Gus’ chin rest on her knee, attempting to comfort her. Neither of them liked it when she cried. 

She let out a few more sobs, her shoulders shaking as she tried to breathe in. Her whole body ached, tired and sore. Her head was pounding and her vision was blurry, but she was still alive. What more could she ask for? She felt almost ungrateful for crying. 

Beth wiped the tears off of her cheeks, but more came anyway. She took a deep breath in, trying to resettle herself, and looked up at Daryl’s face. 

His eyebrows were scrunched together, concerned. His hand was still on her shoulder and his eyes looked _ miserable. _

“No one will hurt you again, okay?” He told her, and she believed him. 

She let out another sob, wrapping her arms around his neck and dragging him down so that she could hug him. He was still there. She wasn’t alone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The winter sun shone through the grimy glass, causing the speckles of dust floating through the air to be distinctly visible. Winter was coming to an end, the air warming up in preparation for spring. Beth wished she knew how it felt outside, if it was warmer or if it was still chilly, but she had been trapped on a sofa for nearly a week with a worried Dixon. 

“Drink some water, Beth, please,” 

“I’m just going to throw it back up anyway,” Beth offered, grimacing at the pain that shot through her lungs and throat whenever she spoke. 

It had been two weeks since the woods, two weeks since they had tied a man to a tree and left him to be torn apart by corpses. It had been two weeks since Beth had killed a human being. 

Beth felt like she had left whatever emotions she had felt about what happened on the riverbank, too overcome with the sickness that had taken over her body faster than she could fight back. She hadn’t cried since she broke down and hung onto Daryl for what felt like days because _ she still had him. _He didn’t ask her if she was okay again and Beth tried to not think about what would have happened if Gus hadn’t come to her rescue. 

Daryl thanking her for saving him made her feel better. Beth forcing the grown man to say thank you to Gus made it all better too. She saw Daryl slip the dog pieces of squirrel and rabbit when he thought she wasn’t looking. She knew that he was grateful to the dog too.

Now, it seemed like God had it out for her. The adrenaline wore off and she broke down about almost being raped and killed, but it also allowed the virus she had been storing up in her system to unleash and wreak havoc on her. 

It was apparently some form of the flu, and it sucked. 

“You need to drink water because you need to take medicine,” Daryl told her, shoving the water bottle back under her nose. She rolled her eyes and swallowed a few small gulps. They had been staying in a rundown pharmacy on the outskirts of a small town for a few days while Beth suffered through her illness. 

“That medicine tastes like ass,” She grunted, adjusting the blanket and wrapping it tighter around her shoulders. She was still cold. 

He laughed and helped her adjust the blanket a little more, swiping at a stray curl that had fallen in front of her eyes. 

Her one hair tie had been ripped out in the woods, leaving her hair to hang loose around her shoulders. She complained about it so much that Daryl had given her one of his bandanas (one not covered in blood and God knows what else) to help keep her hair out of her face while she puked everything in her system out. She liked it, though Daryl joked that she looked like a little prairie woman. 

“Please?” He begged, and she softened. 

She knew he had the right to be worried. The first few days had been rough, the fever causing Beth to fall in and out of consciousness. She swore she even puked blood one time. Those few days after the woods were just one big blur to her feverish brain, but she was getting better, slowly, but better. 

She had started bribing him with things, if she did this, he did that, it was really the only form of entertainment she had while she was curled up on the break room couch of the pharmacy. Unless she wanted to bust out one of those pharmaceutical books to read, which she did not. She was too dizzy to read even if there was something interesting, and if Daryl talked too loudly it made her head pound. She had started counting the cracks in the cement ceiling to keep herself entertained. She had done it six times over now. 

“If I drink more water and take medicine, will you teach me to use your crossbow?” She pestered, already having asked that question three times before and been turned down. She was fascinated, it was such an interesting weapon choice, something quiet and unique. It fit Daryl perfectly, and she wanted that too. 

“Once you're not on the brink of death? Maybe,” 

“I’ll be better in a day or two. You’ll teach me?” She hoped, he had even once made an offhand comment about finding her a bow to use after they scavenged a sports store, joking that they could probably find a pink one to match her knife. 

He rolled his eyes, “Promise,” 

She held her pinkie finger up towards his face jokingly, pouting her lips like a child would if they weren’t getting their way--even though she was. They had been using pinky promises for these contractual agreements for a few days and she liked it. They pinky swore on it and he crammed some more water and medicine down her throat. 

Beth even let him feed her some crackers and play with her hair. She tried to tell herself it was because she felt bad for being so sick, but she knew that wasn’t the case.


	11. Quarry

_ She held her pinkie finger up towards his face jokingly, pouting her lips like a child would if they weren’t getting their way--even though she was. They had been using pinky promises for these contractual agreements for a few days and she liked it. They pinky swore on it and he crammed some more water and medicine down her throat. _

_ Beth even let him feed her some crackers and play with her hair. She tried to tell herself it was because she felt bad for being so sick, but she knew that wasn’t the case._

**FOUR MONTHS LATER**

“I spy something... Green?” Beth offered, adjusting her footing as she nearly stumbled off the railroad tie. 

“Literally every tree?” Daryl grumbled, and although he had his head straight forward, his eyes were scanning around him, so she knew he was playing. 

“Nope, any other guesses?” She was looking at a rusted, green-ish colored Sedan parked a few hundred feet in front of them, abandoned. 

“You?” 

She laughed at his joke, wiping at the sweat that had started forming above her brow. She had determined that she actually liked winter in the apocalypse better than the beginning of summer. If it were cold in the winter, you could pile on the blankets and build a fire, but you couldn’t just rip your skin off when you were hot and it was too dangerous to walk around butt-ass naked. 

She brought this up to Daryl one day and he looked at her as if she had lost a few of her marbles, then quietly agreed with her. 

They were walking along some railroad tracks, overgrown with weeds and grass. She was trying to balance on the railroad ties that were stacked along the tracks as they walked, like those gymnasts on television. Daryl held her hand to keep her steady, occasionally having to step a bit closer when she started to wobble. Knowing her luck with injuries, she’d break a leg. Her shoulder was just now getting to the point where it wasn’t sore every day. 

It had been almost four months since she had been so sick she almost died. Winter had ended early, but that meant that summer came early too. The sun bore down on their shoulders as they kept walking, causing more freckles to appear on Daryl’s skin. They never stayed in one place for too long. 

The sound of cicadas and the blistering heat brought Beth back to the farm, back to memories that she didn’t really want to keep anymore if she was being honest. 

It felt like the farm fell years ago, and it felt like she had been alone with Daryl for years. 

If her calculations were correct when she tried to place all of her diary entries with certain months, it had been almost a year since the farm fell. That was a scary thought. 

It had been a year since she had seen Maggie or hugged her father. She wondered every now and then where they were, what they were doing--she never thought of them as dead, no, the group from Atlanta would have taken care of them. And if not, Greene’s were strong. 

She didn’t wonder if they had mourned for her any longer. She knew they had. Beth had an empty memorial somewhere within the woods around the farm, hastily thrown together before they moved on. Beth wondered if the group had done the same for Daryl, or if they even worried about him. 

She remembered what he had told her on the highway, that they probably thought he took off the first chance he got, happy about not having to deal with everyone’s bullshit. She wanted to wave her hands and say to them,  _ look, I got Dixon, he didn’t run away! He came back!  _

The passing months had allowed Beth and Daryl to finally discuss what happened on the farm. She finally learned about what actually happened with Randall and Shane--how Shane had lost his mind. She always thought he looked like he was about to snap. She had a theory that he and Lori had something going on, but she could never be sure. 

They talked about the group, how Glenn was a bigger part than anyone gave him credit for, how Dale had been one of the kindest men either of them had ever met. Beth told Daryl about Lori’s pregnancy, how she had yelled at her for being so stupid. They both wondered if she was okay and if the baby had made it. 

Beth had started to think of their discussions about the group as a sort of coping mechanism because they had been alone together for so long. Talking about people, sharing stories and thoughts, made it feel like they weren’t as alone as they both felt.

“What month do you think it is?” Beth wondered, gripping onto Daryl’s hand a little tighter when her foot caught a damp piece of moss. Gus was walking ahead of them, panting in the heat. 

“June, maybe?” 

If he was right, spring had come and gone already. They had some sense of time passing, they could somewhat tell by the trees, but it was never definite. That meant her birthday had passed too, marked by Daryl gifting her a pink bow he had swiped from a hunting store. She had teared up when he held out the bow and quiver of arrows to her. 

_ “A late birthday present,” He told her, giving her a small smile. His dimples were more prominent when he did, and she loved them.  _

Out of habit, Beth adjusted the traditional bow over her shoulder, making sure the string didn’t dig into her skin. Though he wasn’t as skilled with it as the crossbow, Daryl still knew the basic mechanics of a traditional bow enough that he could teach her. He had told her after handing it over that he chose a traditional one for her because she had a better aim than he did and didn’t need an aiming mechanism. It made her smile for a few days afterward. 

He had been right. She hit her target more often with her own bow than she did Daryl’s because he followed through on his promise in the pharmacy. They realized pretty quickly that the crossbow was just too heavy and bulky for Beth to handle correctly without fidgeting, and now she knew how Daryl stayed in such good shape. The thing was comically heavy. 

It felt good, to call something her own. She could look at it in her hands and know that she could protect herself with it, that she was confident in her abilities. It felt like a first for her. 

Adjusting her bow caused her foot to slip again and she decided that she had almost fallen too many times and jumped down onto the gravel below her. Daryl let go of her hand, sadly. 

Beth adjusted the bandana keeping her hair away from her face, tucking the few stray pieces back behind her ears. In the humidity, her hair curled, but she didn’t mind. She liked the bandana because it was Daryl’s. She felt a little ashamed of herself for thinking that way, so possessive, but it felt nice to have something of his with her at all times. 

It was worth Daryl trying out new nicknames on her, like milkmaid, but she told him that until she found a set of hair ties it was hers. She had a pack at the bottom of her bag, but she wasn’t going to let him know that. 

She offered to put his hair back with his spare one so that they could match--but he laughed her off and told her  _ no way, little miss Laura Ingalls.  _

_ _ His beard had grown in thick now, covering the skin on his cheeks and around his mouth. She liked it, that it added to the rough image that he just naturally gave off. She didn’t like that she couldn’t see some of his freckles, though. 

They had fallen into a comfortable silence and Beth had taken it upon herself to see if she could figure out what each cloud above her resembled when Daryl’s voice cut her out of her reverie. 

“Want to find a pond or creek somewhere?” He asked and she nodded quickly, skipping after him as he veered off into the trees. They followed a small creek that grew larger with the passing acres, she hoped it led to a big pond. Daryl knew that Beth couldn’t stand to be dirty for too long, and now that it was warm enough to bathe with some regularly she savored in it. 

They were also running low on water and Beth desperately wanted a bath. She knew that if someone offered her a bubble bath right now, she might break down into sobs. She also had to wash some of her clothes, because bleeding in the apocalypse when the pads and tampons had been wiped off the shelves sucked. 

She hummed a lullaby her mom used to sing to her when she was younger as they walked through the woods, chasing after the creek. She could technically bathe in the creek, but she liked the larger bodies of water and Daryl knew that. 

An hour or so passed and if she looked past Daryl’s shoulders she could see a break in the trees and as they drew closer, she realized it was a small quarry that the creek had started running off into. It wasn’t as massive as the ones she had seen around Atlanta on weekend trips to the city, but it was big enough to resemble a tiny lake. They came out of the trees onto a small cliff, only fifteen feet or so above the water. Beth quietly hoped that there was another way to get into the water that didn’t involve her flinging herself and her laundry off of the rocks.

“Do you think there is a way down,” She voiced her concern, patting Gus on the head as he sat down beside of her, both watching as Daryl peered over the ledge. Walkers didn’t really get into bodies of water unless they were chasing something, but it was always good to check. 

_ _ He shrugged, peering over for a few more moments before scanning the perimeter of the quarry, seemingly satisfied. He sat down his back and crossbow and Beth followed, stretching her arms over her head to stretch like a cat in a windowsill. 

He turned to her suddenly, a small smile on his face and a glimmer in his eyes, the way he looked before he threw a soggy leaf at her face or bumped her with his shoulder so she stumbled. He had a nasty idea and she knew she wouldn’t like it.

“You know I don’t like that smile,” She told him, crossing her arms across her chest. Gus whined at the loss of contact. 

He started creeping towards her and she moved back, wary. She was faster than him, she could run if she had to. 

“Don’t you dare, Dixon, I swear to God,” She warned, pointing a finger at him, his smile widened and she let out a nervous laugh. 

He lunged and she attempted to flee, but Gus, the big lug, had laid down behind her and she fell over his chunky body, causing her to sprawl out into the grass. Daryl grabbed her legs, dragging her towards him as he picked her up and walked closer to the edge of the cliff. Okay, it wasn’t  _ really  _ a  _ cliff _ , per se, but it was still high. 

She kicked and punched, screaming as he walked closer to the edge. He had her by the waist and she planted her feet and held her hands up in surrender. 

“Please! Just let me take my boots off?” She told him, waiting for his hands to let go of her waist and when he did, she bent down to undo the laces on her boots. They were getting pretty worn, the same pair he had gotten her on the highway. She would need to find more soon. 

She threw her boots towards Gus and their bags, her hands raised back into a signal of surrender. She turned to him, smiling, and as he moved to grab her waist again she ducked under his arm and shoved him. She watched as he stumbled towards the edge, but he somehow latched onto her arm and pulled her with him, sending them both falling towards the water below. 

As Beth fell, she let out a scream at the feeling of weightlessness, hearing it echoing back to her in the quarry. It didn’t hurt when they hit the water, it felt amazing, the water was just cold enough to provide relief from the blistering sun and it soaked into her clothes like a balm. 

They both popped up for air at the same time, their hair soaked and in their eyes. Beth shoved Daryl and he let out a laugh as she coughed up some leftover water. She kicked her legs and arms to stay afloat, happy when she peeked below the water and could see the bottom a few feet away. 

“You’re an asshole,” She told him when she came back up and he laughed again, smiling at her. She felt her anger fade with his smile, bright and happy in the sunshine. She sent a wave of water at his face and he sputtered, recovering quickly and swimming out of her reach, sending her a bird as he floated away. 

“You’re lucky I know how to swim!” She uttered, kicking her legs so she could float on her back. 

“Yeah, yeah,” She heard him answer, but she was too happy floating on her back, looking up at the clouds, to say anything snarky back. 

He quickly swam back to her, staying afloat next to her as she spread her hands through the water, letting it flow between her fingers. She could feel him looking at her but kept her eyes closed, enjoying the heat of the sun on her face. 

“You better find a way up that hill,” She whispered, reaching up to make sure her bandana was still on her head. 

“Why?” Daryl asked and she pushed herself back up and kept herself afloat to smile at him, trying to mirror his smile from up on the hill. 

“‘Cause I’m gonna get you!” She shouted and tackled him into the water, laughing as she went. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Beth sat on a rock near the edge of the quarry, listening to the gentle ripples as they came upon the pebble shore. She scrubbed at the shirt she had been wearing earlier, trying to get a big rotten bloodstain out of the sleeve. The rest of their laundry was laid out on the rocks next to her, drying in the sun. 

She watched as Daryl coaxed Gus further into the water, just now waist-deep. He splashed and doggy paddled, happily swimming towards his owner in the cool water. She smiled and kept scrubbing at her shirt sleeve with a smooth rock she found, she liked this shirt. 

Beth stopped after a while when her hand cramped up, instead watching as Daryl and Gus swam around the quarry. The sun was warm on her shoulders, heating her skin as she sunbathed like a lizard. The walkers left them alone, thankfully. 

She finished scrubbing her shirt and a pair of Daryl’s pants before leaning back against one of the bigger rocks behind her, watching as the two made their way back to the small shoreline. She had decided that the pants and shirt Daryl had been wearing were clean enough that she didn’t need to scrub them, so she told him to keep them on. 

However, all of her shirts were dirty, so she was sitting on a rock in the sun with only her still-wet jeans and her bra on. They had gotten over their embarrassment of partial nudity (never full-on, Beth didn’t know if she could take it) a while ago, but it still caused Beth to flush whenever she saw Daryl shirtless or they had a normal conversation about acorns or birds while she was standing in front of him in her underwear. She heard Gus shake off and the splash of water as Daryl ringed out his shirt as best as she could. 

Once he was done, she smiled at him and he smiled back. 

“Have fun?” She asked, pulling her hand up to block out the sun. It was still pretty high up in the sky. He nodded and moved to help her fold some of their drying clothes, stuffing them back into his backpack. 

Beth stood up once they were finished, grabbing the pair of clean pants she had set aside for herself, because wet jeans felt awful, and stripped the fabric off of her legs. She could see Daryl out of the corner of her eye bent down digging through his backpack, searching for something, she could also see the way his eyes were raking down her bare legs. 

She had averted her eyes so fast that she caused a wave of dizziness to pass over her, the feeling of blood rushing to her cheeks causing her heart to race. They had been partially clothed in front of each other before, far past caring, but Beth occasionally caught Daryl’s glances. It was just recently that she noticed them, but she couldn’t really feel weird about it because she knew that she looked at him too. 

After he had given her the bow, he had started teaching her how to work it and how to aim in certain situations. She got flustered while Daryl stood behind her, his arms wrapped around her shoulders to guide her aim. She was so short compared to him that she had to bend down a bit to talk into her ear, her back pressing into his stomach. 

He had made fun of her for being so out of shape that she worked up a blush, but she knew deep down that it wasn’t because of that. 

Honestly, she wasn’t sure that it was just her teenage girl hormones anymore or just being alone with an attractive man, she was beginning to realize that it was just Daryl. 

In her ballet classes, there had been an older male instructor that would occasionally come to their classes. All of the girls, even some of the boys, had swooned over him. He had been in the same positions Daryl had been and Beth never flustered then. 

No, it was just Daryl, and that scared her a lot. 

She was starting to catch herself memorizing his face, the few freckles that she could see on the tops of his cheekbones that she so desperately wanted to count. His hair had grown out so much that his natural curls were starting to show, those perfect curls that so many girls sought after. She found herself wanting to run her hands through them. 

They had never seen each other fully naked, and Beth was glad because her heart probably couldn’t take it. He had seen more of her than anyone else, and she wasn’t sure how to process that. 

She desperately wanted to spin around whenever they were changing to see what was lying under the clothes she hadn’t seen removed yet, and it took all of her virginal willpower to do so. Every time she started to imagine what it would be like to touch him, to lay underneath sheets naked with him, her older sister’s voice popped into her head, and that killed the visions real quick. 

She was beginning to like Daryl Dixon, and to quote her younger self, she _liked liked_ him. Something always pulled her back, though, because she knew deep down that they were friends and they would never have something like that. She was most likely misinterpreting his looks because people’s eyes wander and Daryl checked on her a lot to make sure that she was okay. She was just reading too much into it. 

Beth felt haunted by her thoughts as they packed up and headed up the hill and back towards the railroad tracks. Daryl would occasionally try to start a conversation and she would brush him off, she felt bad about it, but she was too lost in her thoughts to engage. 

They had made it to a railroad crossing, lines of abandoned cars painting the roads. A black SUV was parked across the tracks and she thought nothing of it until Daryl came to a screeching halt beside her. When Beth’s eyes finally adjusted she saw the woman holding an assault rifle leaning against the hood. 

It seemed he and the woman noticed each other at the same time because weapons went up and Gus began to growl. 

“Put your weapons down!” She shouted, waving her gun around in what looked like a dangerous fashion. The fact that she didn’t look too comfortable holding it made Beth feel better. 

They were close enough to hear a gentle voice come from behind the car. 

“Sasha, calm down,” A man said, slowly emerging from behind the car. Beth saw the resemblance between the two immediately but didn’t think about it too hard. 

The man looked at them both for a minute before holding his hands up in mock surrender, planting his feet. 

“We come in peace,” He laughed, reaching with one of his hands to push the tip of the woman’s gun down. 

Neither Beth or Daryl said anything back, and neither of them dropped their weapons. The man looked uncomfortable with the fact, but not mad. 

“We have a safe place if you guys are interested,” He told them, smiling again. It wasn’t creepy, it just seemed kind. Beth still couldn’t bring herself to trust them, and it made her feel some feeling that she couldn’t exactly place. 

“Not really, thanks” Daryl spoke, quiet but loud enough for the two to hear over the cicadas. The man frowned and Beth watched as the woman eyed Daryl’s hand that had rested on her upper arm, a habit. 

She seemed to consider this for a minute, scanning Beth’s face. 

“Is she with you?” She asked. 

“Yes,” Daryl answered quickly because they learned their lesson the last time. No matter how much Beth hated it, people respected other people’s things in this world, and some people considered her a possession to be kept. 

If it kept them alive, Beth could look past the implications. 

“We understand that you don’t trust us, we used to be you. We have a community, a nice place to live, good food. We won’t hurt you, we promise,” The man said and Beth could only find kindness within his words, someone who actually cared about other humans, but she knew they couldn’t take his offer. 

“No, thank you, sir,” Beth smiled, politely shaking her head and adjusting her backpack. She had put her bow down a while ago, her hand moving to Daryl’s elbow. He kept his crossbow high enough to fire, but not high enough that he looked like he was aiming at their heads. It was a nice trick that she needed to learn. 

“Well, if you change your minds, it’s the prison off exit three, you won’t miss it. Both of you, and your furry friend are welcome,” The man told them, still smiling, and the woman even offered one of her own, even if it looked rusty. 

They both watched as the two scrambled back into the car and drove away. Compared to their other run-in with the living, the difference was like night and day. 

Beth let out a sigh and she could tell that Daryl’s shoulders softened, they didn’t move for a bit. 

“Do you think it is worth checking out? To see if it is even real?” She questioned because she found it hard to believe that there were safe places anymore, places where children played and people smiled all of the time. It seemed like a fever dream now. 

“I don’t know, we’re doing pretty good on our own,” He told her and she agreed, but she could only think of the future winter, even if it was months away. Time passed quickly and soon enough they could be back out in the snow. We’re they doing good enough to trust strangers, she wondered? 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“How many people live there, you think?” Beth whispered, clutching the shaft of her pink crossbow tightly so she could keep her hands busy. They had been crouched a few hundred feet away from the fences of the prison for about an hour now. The sun had set a while ago, probably closer to dawn. They both watched as the flashlight in the guard tower wavered back and forth. 

“Maybe twelve? It’s hard to tell, there were a lot of people in the yard today,” Daryl had sent himself ahead while she stayed back towards the tracks, scavenging some scraps from a local gas station while she waited for him to come back if it was safe to check out. 

She was finally getting consistent enough that she could be alone for short periods of time, even if it seemed to cause them both discomfort to be apart for long. 

“Were there any kids?” She wondered aloud because they had learned that if a group was all men, it was bad news. 

“One, I think, I even saw a baby.” 

Oh Lord, a baby. Beth didn’t think there would ever be any. She still felt the same way she had back at the farm, that if someone willingly wanted to bring a child into this world they were stupid and cruel, but no one could resist the chubby cheeks of a baby. 

A voice whispered in the back of her head, one she had crushed while she had been alone in the gas station,  _ imagine how cute you and Daryl’s baby would be? Imagine how it would feel - No! No! Bad Beth!  _

_ _ She shook her head and waited for the blush to go away, even if she knew he couldn’t see it in the darkness. 

“Do you think it is worth a shot?” She asked, pushing the thought of a baby with blonde hair and Daryl’s eyes away for later analyzation. After the run-in with Joe and his groupies, their trust for other people had become nonexistent. The two in the SUV were lucky they weren’t shot at. 

“I don’t think it is a good idea, too good to be true, you know?” Daryl whispered and she nodded, watching as he patted Gus on the head gently. 

How long could those walls stay up? How long until someone like Joe decided that they wanted the prison for themselves? Or if a herd came through, like the farm? There were too many what-ifs and Beth could only bring herself to trust Daryl. 

No, they were doing just fine alone. 

So, she stood up and Daryl followed her off into the darkness, away from the prison. 


	12. Brothers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, y'all! Sorry for the super long hiatus, the second semester of college is officially kicking my ass. I hope you enjoy this chapter because there is a lot to come! 
> 
> \- bee

_ How long could those walls stay up? How long until someone like Joe decided that they wanted the prison for themselves? Or if a herd came through, like the farm? There were too many what-ifs and Beth could only bring herself to trust Daryl.  _

_ No, they were doing just fine alone.  _

_ So, she stood up and Daryl followed her off into the darkness, away from the prison. _

Beth shifted on her feet as she scanned the shelves of the movie store, focusing on the feeling of her fingertips on the plastic CD cases, trying not to breathe in the moldy smell of the carpet. An unrepaired leak in the roof caused rain to patter down onto the multi-colored carpet across the store.

A crack of thunder startled Beth from her quiet thoughts, reminding her of the storm outside and causing an involuntary shiver to run down her spine. Yes, they could have continued to walk in the rain, but she knew neither of them wanted to deal with soaked clothes chafing their skin as they walked right now - but Beth also didn’t like the idea of being trapped inside until the storm cleared and she knew Daryl didn’t either -- if his jumpy behavior meant anything. 

The movie store gave some reprieve from being trapped indoors. It gave them something to occupy their minds and some easy conversation because Beth was so tired from running and chasing after some form of normalcy that her mind could not comprehend anything more than small talk right now. 

It had been a few weeks (and Beth no longer kept track of the weeks, if she was being honest, only the tallies in her diary let her know how long it had been) since they had run into those two people claiming to live in the prison and offering them a place there. Beth didn’t regret turning their backs on the place, but she did wonder what it felt like to have somewhere with walls. How did it feel to not have to watch your back? To be able to walk around without paying attention to your surroundings? Beth wondered if they could have built walls around the farmhouse if they hadn’t been chased out, if it would have been safer that way. Things didn’t last long in this world, though. 

Beth debated writing in her diary. She had a few memories floating around in her head that she would have liked to write down, mostly of her mother, but she knew she wouldn’t have been able to focus on her words. 

“What kind of movies did you like before everything?” Beth wondered aloud, pushing a copy of  _ The Shining _ back onto the shelves of the horror movie section, her brother's favorite. She was searching this section because she hadn’t been allowed to watch horror movies before the turn and she wanted to read the descriptions on the back of the CD cases to see what she had been missing. 

She watched Daryl’s head jerk towards her voice, his fingers pushing a miscellaneous thriller back into its place, he seemed to think about his answer for a bit, his brow scrunched in thought. 

“I liked mysteries, didn’t really care for action or horror if I’m honest,” He told her, picking up another random case to read. She smiled, moving to stand closer to him. 

“Really? I saw you as a macho action and gory horror movie kind of dude,” She teased, picking up a copy of something called  _ The Godfather _ . The back was too faded to read the description, and she wondered briefly what the story was about. 

“You’re funny,” He jested, sighing as he slid another case back into its proper slot. “What kinds of movies did Beth Greene watch?  _ Barbie: Princess and the Pauper  _ and  _ Cinderella _ ?” 

She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, leaning on the shelves with her shoulder. He took in her position and smiled, but she didn’t get to catch it in all of its glory before it went away again. Daryl’s smiles were like a rainbow, you had to take them in while you could before they disappeared. She loved them more than she would have liked to admit. 

“Those Barbie movies were great, thank you very much, and I’ll have you know I liked dramas and fantasy movies the most.” She told him, making sure to stash away the whole idea that Daryl knew what  _ Barbie: The Princess and the Pauper _ was for a later date. She eyed the box set of  _ The Lord of the Rings Trilogy _ from afar. They were the only fantasy movies the Greene children had been allowed to watch under their parents’ roof because her dad had loved the books so much. She had clear memories of sitting on her dad’s lap while he read her  _ The Return of the King _ every Christmas. She wondered if she could ever find a copy of one of the books, just for nostalgia. 

Daryl hummed, clearly skipping over the romance section and moving towards the documentary shelves. Beth giggled, trailing behind him through the shelves. 

Gus lay near the front door, seemingly watching raindrops slide down the glass front doors, wanting to be outside. Beth felt the same. 

It was quiet for a while, and Beth relished in the comfortable silence. Sometimes it was nice to just listen to their shared breathing, not having to worry about carrying on an awkward conversation or being nice with someone. Daryl was getting much more open with her about things, mostly trivial things like his favorite colors and what foods he liked and disliked, but Beth kept those tidbits of information close to her like a precious gift. They were more than she could have ever asked for from him, but she was still waiting for the day where she knew everything - which she hoped she would get. 

Beth eyed the storm outside, the rain splashing onto the pavement in a way that could only be described as volatile. The sky had darkened to the point where it didn’t seem like midday anymore, cloudy and black. They had run inside the empty movie store a few minutes after it had started drizzling, too tired to deal with getting wet or hiding under a big tree. They had just stepped inside when the rain began to pour and the first crack of thunder echoed down the road. 

Being just behind Daryl, she had reflexively gripped his elbow at the first sign of thunder, her nails digging into the skin there. He had eyed her hand and asked her if she was alright - she had lied and said she had tripped.

She had always tried to control her reactions to thunder and lightning around other people, tried not to jump or clench her eyes shut. There hadn’t been too many summer thunderstorms this summer, thankfully, but there had been a few. Beth hated them. 

It was a stupid, childish fear, she knew. Thunderstorms were natural and completely harmless, but she couldn’t help the shivers that ran down her spine whenever one started up, the rapid beat of her heart against her ribcage and the dampness of her palms. 

She had been a teensy bit scared of thunderstorms when she was younger, like any other kid; not liking how the whole farmhouse shook when the thunder struck near, but it was a day out in the fields that had cemented her fear in thunderstorms.

_ “Bethie, come on, we’ll be back in like, five minutes,” Shawn whined, stomping his foot in the oncoming mud beneath their sneakers. Beth mourned her white and pink princess sneakers.  _

_ “Can’t you just get your plane tomorrow? It’s storming real bad and mama said to be back before lunch,” Beth told him, crossing her arms and hunching over to avoid getting raindrops in her eyes. They still stuck to her eyelashes.  _

_ “I don’t want it to get wet! I worked for months on that plane and you were the one who wanted to bring it to play anyway,” He said, stomping off into the woods away from the direction of the house. Beth shivered in the rain and peered behind her in the opposite direction, wondering if she could make it back home by herself.  _

_ “Shawn, wait up!” The splash of her sneakers sent mud up her jeans, staining the fabric patched with purple swirly patterns. She didn’t want to be alone in the forest.  _

_ “Be careful on the roots, I ain’t explaining to dad how you sprained your ankle being stupid,” Shawn told her, kicking a rock across the forest floor and causing it to smack into a nearby stump.  _

_ Beth’s cheeks heated and she pouted her lips, “I’m not stupid!” She had just gotten an A on her spelling test!  _

_ “Are too,” Shawn whined.  _

_ “Am not!” Beth shouted.  _

_ Shawn was about to respond when an odd feeling fell over Beth - like a fuzzy, sleepy feeling - causing her to stop in her tracks and Shawn’s words to get caught in his throat. She peered around as a rather loud crash of thunder clattered throughout the valley, a bright flash came from somewhere to the right of them, and everything seemed to fall quiet in the small clearing, then BOOM!  _

_ _ Beth shivered at the memory, remembering how the closest tree to her had been struck with lightning and shattered into pieces - the force of the strike sending Beth and Shawn into a heap a few feet away. The tree had just missed her and Shawn, landing only feet from where they had been standing, smoldering. 

When they finally stood up, Beth had realized she had been screaming, but couldn’t hear her own screams, nor Shawn’s frantic questioning, asking if she was alright. 

Herschel had heard their screams and met them in the fields, dragging their bruised (and very deaf) bodies back to the house, covered in mud and tears. It took a few hours for their hearing to return to normal, and Beth swore that the feeling of overwhelming electricity and her racing heart stayed with her for weeks afterward. 

Neither of them ever played in the rain again, and she didn’t think anyone went to go get Shawn’s plane afterward. She wondered if it was still there on the creek bed. 

She had been terrified (maybe that was dramatic, was _ wary _ a better word?) of thunderstorms ever since, and she still had distinct memories of hiding her head under her pillows when it stormed well into her teenage years. 

She was never going to tell Daryl about this fear, of course. It was pitiful compared to some other things she could have experienced, compared to some of the things she knew and theorized he went through as a boy, it was a stupid, irrational fear. 

“You good?” Daryl questioned and Beth jumped at the sound of his voice in the quiet of the store, which caused his eyebrows to raise in question. 

She nodded, running her hands up and down her arms as if she was cold ( _ it’s ninety degrees outside, stupid! _ ) and mumbled that she was cold. 

“There’s a sweatshirt in my backpack if you want,” He told her, shuffling his feet like he always did when he offered something. 

As Beth scavenged through Daryl’s backpack in search of the supposed sweatshirt, because she couldn’t complain that she was cold and not take up his offer, she wondered what Daryl feared most in the world. Small spaces? Snakes? The ocean? His father?

She slid the hoodie over her shoulders, relishing quickly in the smell of the woods and that eucalyptus soap bar Daryl bathed himself with. 

Daryl reminded her of Shawn, she realized. Both quiet and fiery-tempered, kind and loyal to those who returned the favor, too stubborn for their own good. Something clicked in Beth’s mind, causing a laugh to bubble out of her mouth. 

_ Daryl Dixon is such a Gryffindor,  _ she realized. 

She wondered if Daryl’s similarities to her brother were why they got along so well because Beth had grown up alongside a boy very similar to the man in front of her. She did have to admit that Daryl was a bit meaner than Shawn, though. 

Beth was still crouched in front of their pile of bags when she heard Daryl ask if she felt better, and she nodded even though the sweatshirt had caused her to start sweating in the summer heat. 

“Yeah, just thinking,” She admitted, pushing Shawn’s smiling face out of her head before she could think any longer on it. He had been her best friend and his death was now a blur to her. What kind of sister did that make her, not even remembering when her big brother died? Maybe it was for the best, she thought. 

Daryl eyed her for a bit longer, seemingly seeing straight through her lie and either being too tired or too unwilling to dig further, turned back to the CDs in front of him.

Beth turned her thoughts to the man in front of her, wondering if he was in the mood to answer some silly small talk questions. She knew simply hearing Daryl speak would take her thoughts off of the storm outside, though she would never admit that.

“What is your biggest fear, do you think?” Beth asked, turning on her heel to get into a criss-cross applesauce position, looking at Daryl’s back. She wanted to know, and now that the question was in her head she was going to wonder until he told her himself. 

His head piqued and he scoffed, leaning against the shelves and crossing his arms, peering at her from across the store. 

“That’s a new one,” He said, the heel of his boot resting against the bottom shelf. 

“I’m curious,” She answered, shooting him a small smile because those always seemed to make him more willing to answer her silly questions. Gus groaned from the front door, which they both ignored. 

“Is it cause you’re trying to make yourself feel better about bein’ scared of thunder?” He questioned, eyes squinted and a small smirk on his face. Beth’s pulse jumped a bit at his words because was she  _ that _ obvious? 

_ Goddammit.  _

_ _ “There is no way you figured that out on your own! Did I tell you already?” Beth pouted, her arms crossed over her chest in a protective manner. Her cheeks heated and she hoped he wasn’t paying attention to her face. 

He shook his head and shrugged his shoulders, “You tense up everytime like it’s gonna get you or something,” 

“It’s stupid, isn’t it?” She asked. 

“No, I was scared of it when I was little too,” 

_ When I was little too. Ouch.  _

Beth shook his response off, tugging at the strings around the knees of her jeans, “So, Mr. Dixon, what do you fear most in the world?” 

“You asking stupid questions,” He told her. 

“Very funny,” She pouted, rolling her eyes, but motioned for him to continue. 

“I don’t like small places, but you knew that,” He whispered like he was embarrassed. Beth wanted to tell him that it was alright, but she could only nod at the memory. 

_ “God, how many are there?” Beth whispered, listening carefully to the shuffling of feet and groaning as the small herd passed by the gas station. They had snuck up on them and they had just enough time to throw themselves (and drag Gus by the collar) into an outdoor supply closet before the first few noticed their presence. It was a lot smaller than they originally thought, not nearly big enough for the two of them and Gus, so Beth was pressed into Daryl, her legs in between his and their chests nearly pressed against each other.  _

_ He didn’t respond to her question, and when Beth peered up at his face to see if he was alright, she had just enough light to see the glassy look in his eyes. He was looking off somewhere behind her.  _

_ His breathing was harsh and rough, almost as if he was beginning to hyperventilate.  _

_ She reached her hands up to his arms to hold on, but he shook his head frantically and she dropped them to her side. His arms moved to press against the walls, easily reaching across the small closet, and pressed, as if it could make the room bigger somehow.  _

_ “Breathe,” She told him because she couldn’t just stand there while he threw himself into a breakdown.  _

_ His breathing grew worse, and she shushed him a bit, as the footsteps outside hadn’t cleared out yet.  _

_ A few minutes passed, what felt like an eternity if she was honest, and the groans had just quieted enough to assume all of the stragglers had passed, and without peering out the window Daryl tore himself out of the closet so fast it caused Beth to feel a little dizzy. She followed after him quickly, but slow enough to give him space. She checked their surroundings quickly, just to make sure. As she looked away, Daryl threw up.  _

_ He was crouched next to an abandoned car, his head in his hands, which were shaking - his breathing was starting to slow.  _

_ She crouched next to him, patting his shoulder as he took deep breaths in and out, Gus whined from somewhere behind her.  _

_ “Do you want to talk about it?”  _

_ He shook his head, and she nodded.  _

Beth pulled herself out of the memory,  _ Gee, you’re reminiscent today, aren’t you?  _ She wasn’t sure if she wanted to know what constituted Daryl’s fear. 

He had turned back to the shelves sometime during her daydreaming, Gus now laying near his feet. She peered at the angel wings on the back of his vest, counting the loose strings. She had never asked him about it. 

A crash suddenly came from the back of the store, from within the backroom that they had cleared together. Glass hit the floor from somewhere, and Beth and Daryl both tensed instantaneously. She was on her feet before she recognized that she had been moving.

“Fuck!” A voice shouted, and it sounded like the voice of a villain on one of those old-timey Southern movies, the crook or the antagonistic cowboy - rough and gritty with what Beth assumed was smoke. 

Beth was near to the door next to Gus, backpack already clipped to her chest, when she turned to ensure Daryl was following. He wasn’t. 

Though his back was to her, Beth could see the tenseness of his shoulders and the obvious fear that had set into his bones. Beth’s heart started to race as she quickly wondered  _ why  _ and ran to his side to pull him towards the door by the elbow. She didn’t care if they soaked everything they owned, she just wanted to get away from whoever was in the back room. 

Daryl seemed glued to the spot on the dirty carpet, and Beth struggled to pull him further than a few inches. The loud footsteps grew closer to the door leading out onto the shop floor and Beth could tell there was more than one. 

“Daryl please,” Her voice grew desperate, “we need to go,” 

The door slammed open, hitting the wall with a bang and sending a surprisingly large cloud of dust up into the air. A man came out of the backroom, menacingly large and covered in an obvious mixture of rain, mud, and blood. He wore a wife-beater and army boots, his pants stained with miscellaneous fluids. 

It was his arm that terrified Beth. 

In place of his right hand was a prosthetic, but instead of a plastic hand it was a gnarly knife the size of Beth’s arm, covered in blood and God only knew what else. 

The man stopped in his tracks, his eyes on her, and smiled. 

“Well, looky here, boys!” The man crooned, spinning to see the four other men climbing through the broken window after him. Beth briefly wondered why they hadn’t just come through the front door, but then she realized that they had probably been watching them.

His eyes scanned the store, slowly moving to Daryl. 

“Daryl?” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Merle Dixon was exactly as Beth had imagined him. He was dirty, rude, racist, and looked at her chest more often than her face. If she hadn’t heard Daryl’s stories about him, she wouldn’t have been remotely prepared for his personality. She still couldn’t believe that the two men shared a family tree, let alone be brothers. 

Even with his older brother in front of him, alive and in the flesh, Daryl still sat close enough to Beth that she could reach out and touch him if she wanted to. Beth thought it might have been because the last time they had been cornered by a group of men in the woods, it hadn’t ended well for either of them. 

With Merle came four other men who didn’t seem to want to be closer to him longer than they had to, but easily welcomed Beth and Daryl into their party. They had all introduced themselves, names that Beth forgot the moment they were said, but they seemed nice and gave Gus some water. 

The strangest part of everything was that Gus loved Merle Dixon. 

He was currently lying with his head on the man’s lap, solemnly nudging the tennis ball Beth had snatched from the trunk of a car a few weeks back. Merle had played fetch for a while, but he was now staring intently at Daryl, silently ordering him to explain himself in a way only an older sibling could. Daryl was looking anywhere but his older brother’s face. 

Beth watched the three men shift uncomfortably in the tense air the clearing had taken on, peering off into the trees or staring into the fire as to not look at the two brothers.

“I haven’t seen you in nearly a year and you don’t got nothing to say to me, huh?” Merle said, twirling the mud-soaked and slobbery tennis ball in his fingers. He leaned against the tree across from them in a way that was both arrogant and relaxed. 

“Not much to say,” Daryl whispered, not meeting his gaze. Instead, he played with a few sprigs of grass that were between their legs. Beth swallowed down the urge to reach out and comfort him, because Merle already looked suspicious of them after Daryl had laid out his jacket for Beth to sit on so she wouldn't get muddy. 

“Well, fuck you then,” Merle snorted, and then his gaze shifted to Beth for the first time since they sat down. She unhappily noticed that they had the same eyes, a mixture of blue and green. Those eyes were on her face and not her chest, thankfully. 

“What’d you say your name was, beautiful?” 

She fought the urge to roll her eyes, “Beth,” she told him, meeting his gaze. She wasn’t going to bow down to his overwhelming, stinking confidence. 

“How’d my little brother get lucky enough to be puttin’ it up your ass?” Merle questioned, a smile that could only be described as greasy on his face. 

She actually did roll her eyes this time, ignoring his jab in favor of answering him honestly, but Daryl beat her to it. 

“She’s just a kid, Merle, leave her alone,” 

_ Ouch.  _

That was two hits in one day to her confidence. A horrifying thought passed her mind then, though. Did Daryl  _ know _ that she had a crush on him? He was so much more perceptive than he let on, even recognizing her fear, so did he know? Oh, God, she couldn’t take it if he knew about her silly attraction to him. Is that why their conversation had slowly tapered off in the past few days? Daryl knew that she liked him and he was disgusted? She was technically, in the eyes of the old world, a legal adult now, but did he still see her as the little girl he felt obligated to take care of? 

She was screwed, wasn’t she? 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“It’s called Woodbury,” The guy closest to Beth finished, Josh? Daniel? Something like that. 

“Is it safe?” Beth questioned, because although his tales of walls and safety sounded dandy, it was safer to be wary than sorry. They had turned away from the prison for very similar reasons, so why was Woodbury different? 

“I wouldn’t be there if it wasn’t, blondie,” Merle interjected, tossing a protein bar wrapper onto the forest floor somewhere behind him. 

“Where is it at?” Daryl asked, reading Beth’s mind, was it a few miles away? A hundred? He still seemed wary of his brother, unsure of how to react to his being alive. Beth knew he thought he was dead, had mourned him alone long before he arrived at the farm - speaking of him in the past tense. Beth wondered how she would react if she ever saw any of her family again. She hoped they had all of their limbs still. 

“Few miles from here off one of the exits,” One of the other men answered, closer to Shane or Rick’s age than she and Daryl’s, he continued, “It’s totally safe and functional, Woodbury is about as close as you’ll get to how it used to be nowadays,” 

Merle scoffed at that, which piqued Beth’s interest, but Daryl’s words close to her ear cut off her thoughts. 

“You’re puttin’ a lot of faith in some walls,” He grumbled, not loud enough for the men across from them to hear. Beth nodded without thinking. 

“Woodbury is a great place, I think you two would fit in well there, especially with those bows,” The man told them, smiling. She felt sorry for the group of men, stuck with Merle Dixon scavenging for God knows how long. She would want to make friends too. 

“We’ll think about it,” Beth told him, feeling as if that is what Daryl would have said, just in a nicer way. 

She heard Merle grumble something about  _ pants _ and  _ feminist nazi bitches  _ but one of the other men asked what they had been up, being on the run for so long, before she could retaliate. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So, what did you do at your family’s farm? I ask because it’ll help determine where we should place you for work,” The woman explained, a small smile on her face that caused her crow’s feet to wrinkle. She reminded Beth of someone but couldn’t place it. 

Should she tell this woman the truth? That she moped around and occasionally collected eggs from the chicken coop? That she was kept on house arrest when she took a broken mirror shard to her wrist? No, she wasn’t going to be honest, she decided. 

“I know how to hunt and can defend myself pretty well, I’m also good at scavenging,” She told her, truthful, but nothing she did back at the farm. She didn’t want to be on house arrest here, she’d lose her mind looking up at that wall every day without ever seeing the other side. 

The woman seemed to look her up and down for a moment, questioning. 

“Well, we have enough of those types, do you like children? We are short on staff at the school here, you won’t do much, just watch the kids and maybe teach them to read and write,” The woman told her, seemingly desperate. 

Could she watch a group of kids? She had wanted to be a kindergarten teacher for a while back in middle school, could she still do it? How bad could a group of kids be, really? 

She nodded, “I’ll do it,” 

“Wonderful! I’ll let Margaret know that you’ll start next week, more questions before I leave?” 

“Do you know where Daryl will be working? The man with me?” 

“I think they are putting him on the wall, most of the men go there when they first get here, but I am not sure.” 

“Okay, thank you,” 

“I think you two will fit in just right here,” The woman told her, and Beth smiled, and the sensation felt foreign. 


	13. Woodbury

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone, this is a very long chapter, but I hope everyone enjoys it! 
> 
> \- bee

_ “Do you know where Daryl will be working? The man with me?”  _

_ “I think they are putting him on the wall, most of the men go there when they first get here, but I am not sure.”  _

_ “Okay, thank you,”  _

_ “I think you two will fit in just right here,” The woman told her, and Beth smiled, and the sensation felt foreign. _

Beth watched in awe - or anger - she wasn’t sure which yet, as the people of Woodbury milled about the main street. Some hurried to their assigned jobs, others carried supplies up and down the street, mothers clasped their children’s hands and gossiped with the women beside them, their bellies swollen with even  _ more _ children. 

Beth felt a little disgusted at the sights, if she was being totally honest, though she wasn’t exactly sure  _ why _ . These people were happy, they were living and attempting to give their families normal lives, so why did it all feel  _ off _ ? 

There was something about the smiling faces and giggling children that gave Beth the heebie-jeebies, something about the flowering gardens and flowing clothing that sent her senses into fight or flight. It was all too perfect, too pristine, and it made Beth uncomfortable.

Would she and Daryl turn into these people, if they stayed long enough? Would she put on pretty dresses in the mornings and watch as Daryl went off to work the wall? No, she couldn’t imagine becoming someone like that, not after everything she had gone through - physically and emotionally. That Beth was too close to Beth on the farm, and she never wanted to be that person again, not if she could help it. 

They had been given the ‘weekend’ to settle into their apartment and prepare to integrate into the community on Monday. Once again, the thought of having a weekend made Beth feel uneasy. 

They mostly stayed in their too-nice apartment, only venturing out to let Gus use the bathroom and get food from the market down the street. Merle had lent them some of his credits, allowing them to buy some food to fix over the weekend until they accumulated their own from working. Beth made spaghetti, and it was weirdly domestic. 

Their apartment was small, but cozy small, decorated in bright colors and neutrals. The person who had lived there before obviously loved to travel, since the walls were decorated with signed postcards and pictures of faraway places Beth and Daryl would never see. The kitchen was all white, except for the small bowl of fake lemons sitting in the middle of the counter. They discovered soon after settling in that there was only one bed, and it was a full, and without hesitation, Daryl took the couch. Beth didn’t fight him too hard, because the thought of being that close to Daryl every night gave her feelings she didn’t want to think about. 

It was a little lonely sleeping in the bedroom alone, since Gus always slept near Daryl. But, if she left the bedroom door open, she could just see the rise and fall of Daryl’s chest over the back of the couch and that always made her feel better. She wondered if she could convince him to move the couch into the bedroom with her. 

Daryl had figured out that the old record player in the living room still worked, the sound only a little muffled, so they played through the records as much as they could. It was weird to hear music again, voices of people who were probably dead, but it made Beth a little more comfortable in their new surroundings. 

Over dinner on what was apparently ‘Saturday’, they both quietly agreed that they both felt watched. Wherever they went, it was guaranteed that if they turned around, someone would be looking at them. It unsettled both of them, both being the type of person who would rather blend into the crowd, she hoped the shock of having new people from the outside world would fade soon enough. 

She wondered if that was the reason, if the people of Woodbury saw them as wild animals rabid with disease, people who have spent every moment since the outbreak in the outside world. Or, if it was just because word spread that Daryl was Merle Dixon’s little brother. 

The woman that had let them into their new apartment had invited them over for dinner that first night, seemingly surveying their state of dress with an air of pity. After she cheerily told them that Woodbury rarely accepted new people from the outside and the only reason they were probably here was because of Merle Dixon’s status, she joked about if they still knew how to use a knife and fork after being in the woods for so long. 

Daryl licked his plate in front of the woman soon after that, glaring at her, and Beth felt a bit better. They both laughed about her stunned reaction in their apartment afterward, settling into their new beds. 

‘Monday’ was here and they had been assigned escorts who would pick them up and show them the ins and outs of their new positions. They both sat at the pristine kitchen table, and Beth tried to focus on the sound of Daryl’s foot tapping on the wood floor in an attempt to calm her nerves. 

Should they be nervous? Was this another test to see if they were allowed to stay? Would the escorts report back to whoever and tell them everything they said or did? Beth felt like it was her first day of high school all over again. 

Even though these people made her uncomfortable, if their silly happiness and big game of house-made her want to scoff, she still wanted them to  _ like  _ her, for some ungodly reason. Leftover feelings of social acceptance from before, she assumed. 

A knock echoed throughout their apartment and Gus let out a small warning bark before Daryl shushed him, standing up to open the door for whichever escort was outside, but the door flung open before he had the chance to grab the handle. 

That was another strange thing about Woodbury, none of the apartments had locks. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Daryl’s escort was a brawny, greasy-looking man - one of those men who screamed  _ I owned a strip club and will flirt with you if given the opportunity.  _ One glance in Beth’s direction and Daryl pushed the man towards the door as they spoke, grumbling about not wanting to be late. 

All that mattered to Beth was that Daryl quickly hugged her (because  _ what the fuck _ , a hug from  _ Daryl Dixon _ ?) and told her she knew where to find him if she needed anything. She smiled and whispered okay, and he tugged on the end of her braid before closing the door behind him. 

She had to sit down at the kitchen table again to process what just happened. 

Daryl Dixon and his broad range of personalities gave her whiplash constantly. One second he was kind and loving towards her, tugging on her braid and asking if she was alright, and the next, he was nearly nonexistent, not speaking or making eye contact when she attempted conversation. She couldn’t predict his behavior either, there was no discernible pattern or action that set him off, though she tried to find it, for her own sanity. 

Beth sometimes wondered if he was playing with her emotions, if he  _ knew _ that she felt something for him and took joy out of seeing her eyes light up and her cheeks flush, only to be ignored the next day. Then she remembered that she was talking about  _ Daryl Dixon _ and that he was too nice of a person, even if he would never admit it, that he cared too much about certain people to ever knowingly do that to someone. 

Those whiplash emotions kept her up at night. She often wondered if they were remnants of the abuse he suffered as a child. How was she supposed to work her way around that though, those moments where he shut down completely and shut her out? Or, would she have to just accept that those moments were just part of who Daryl was as a person? 

While doing their dishes, a habit they seemingly brought from the farm, Beth had admitted that she felt as if they were being forced to start new lives, that she wasn’t sure if she could ever go back to who she was before the farm fell, someone who was so blind to their privilege of safety and access to a steady food source. She didn’t know if slapping on a cardigan sweater and washing her hair would be enough to make up for all of the things that had happened in the past year, or even anything before. 

Daryl, who was standing close to her, drying the dishes she handed him, told her quietly that she never had to be that girl again, she didn’t have to change who she had become to make others more comfortable. He told her that she was a new person and that was okay, that she had another shot at becoming someone different. 

Daryl was a lot wiser than he probably knew, and those moments of random guidance helped her a lot more than she could ever tell him. It was in those moments that Beth felt as if she really was a child, searching for guidance and attention from an adult. 

Her escort had been a little late, a woman with pale, freckled skin and a mess of fiery red hair hid behind the door until Beth opened it, unlike Daryl’s escort. 

She introduced herself as Rose, which Beth felt was fitting, gently shaking hands as she greeted her. She never looked Beth in the eyes while speaking, peering at her sneakers instead. She was a good few inches shorter than Beth, which shocked her because she thought she was tiny. Maybe she had been around Daryl for too long, had gotten used to being dwarfed constantly. 

Beth soon learned from some awkward small talk that Rose was only a few years older than she was, twenty-one in just a few weeks. It was apparently nearing the fourth of July, and Beth felt like she and Daryl had been living in some timeless dimension for the past year. 

They spoke about trivial things, like the weather and if Beth would like some new clothes. She played along, oohing and aahing when she mentioned that her neighbor’s garden finally sprouted squash that they could use for the celebratory cookout. She laughed and gently asked questions to keep the conversation going because even if she was uncomfortable, she wanted to make a good impression on Rose just in case she was reporting to the higher levels. 

Rose was a sweet girl, always letting you finish your thoughts and listening intently while you did, someone who Beth could see herself becoming good friends with if given the chance.

“It is a beautiful day today, isn’t it?” Rose murmured, clasping her hands in front of her and keeping her head down as they walked. 

“It is,” Beth answered, watching as the school building drifted closer and closer. She had quietly hoped they would pass by the walls on their way to work, hoping to catch a glimpse of Daryl working, maybe wave, but she was disappointed when they walked straight through town. 

Rose started speaking quietly all of the sudden, startling Beth out of her thoughts about Daryl and his arms while he used his crossbow.

“I know you probably think we’re all stupid, cowering behind these walls, not knowing what it’s like outside of them - but I hope you give us all a chance,” She said, smiling at a passerby. Beth watched as a mother chased after her small child, giggling as the woman caught up to her. 

Had Beth been giving off that vibe? She wondered if the word had spread about her and Daryl’s argument with one of the guards who escorted them to their interviews after he tried to pry their bows from their hands without asking. They apparently had to ‘check’ their weapons before they were allowed to stay, having to hand over their knives and gun for inspection and cataloging. 

They were supposed to get them back today, and Beth was itching to get her hand back on her bow again. She knew Daryl was struggling, because he grumbled about it every chance he got, especially to Merle, who told them it was simply procedure. 

“I’m trying,” Beth whispered, watching as the leaves on the trees lining the sidewalk swayed in the breeze. They were weeping willows, her favorite. 

She felt eyes on her back, watching as she and Rose walked together. She tried not to pay attention to the burn it caused. 

Could she ever fully trust someone again, someone other than Daryl? She knew Daryl was long gone, constantly suspicious and unwilling to give someone a chance, but could she? 

“I know you are, I can’t imagine living outside for as long as you both did, you’re stronger than anyone I’ve ever met,” Rose said, finally meeting her eyes and smiling, “I hope you’ll both find your places here, though.” 

Rose was beautiful, a layer of freckles across her cheeks and nose, lashes that made Beth want to cry with jealousy because holy shit, was that  _ mascara _ ? But there was something in her eyes, something sad, that made Beth want to shudder. 

They walked closer to the doors of the schoolhouse in silence, a little more comfortable than before. 

Beth would try, she just hoped that it wouldn’t come back to bite her later. 

_ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ _

_ _ Beth held her head in her hands as she heard a crash come from somewhere within the corner she had just spent ten minutes cleaning up. It seemed that the kids believed the correct placement of the wooden blocks was all over the carpet, not organized by shape and size in their bin. This sense of chaos had been going on for over two hours and she watched as Rose chased a smaller girl who had torn her diaper off around the craft table. They were outnumbered, and it wasn’t going well. 

The newbies in the school apparently got placed in the toddler room with Rose, not the quiet, peaceful reading rooms that Beth had seen some of the older kids file into. Rose apparently liked it here, choosing to stay and teach others instead of shifting to another group, and Beth wondered how she was still sane. 

She had dealt with some of her baby cousins before, occasionally bottle-fed a baby or played dolls - but this was absolute insanity. It seemed like the more there were, the crazier they got. It was like walkers, in a morbid way, if there is one it’s okay, but if there is a herd you’ll be surrounded and consumed. 

At least, she hoped the girl with the pink bows in her hair that liked to pull the heads off of dolls wouldn’t eat her. 

Beth was very close to crawling into a corner to cry when one of the older women who worked in the school popped her head in and told Beth and Rose that they could take their lunch break in the snack room. Beth wanted to cry with joy at the thought. 

The snack room was more of a closet with a few bags of stale chips and granola bars. Beth would have eaten weeds if it meant she got a break from that hellhole of a room. It wasn’t that Beth didn’t like kids, they were all sweet in their own way, occasionally really funny, it was just after so many long months of peaceful silences and adult conversations with Daryl it was a little strange to be surrounded by tiny, screaming humans. 

“Who is the man you’re with?” Rose asked suddenly, munching on a granola bar and playing with one of the strands that fell out of her hastily assembled braid. They were seated on the old couch that was placed against one of the walls of the storage room, staring at the ceiling while they ate. 

“Daryl? We were in a group together, at my family’s farm. A herd came through and separated all of us and we got out together,” They’d been through a lot more than that, but Beth held herself back from adding anything else to her quick explanation. She didn’t know Rose well enough.

“Herd? Like, of cows?” Rose giggled, flicking a crumb off of her jeans, and something deep in Beth, that teenage girl that had died a long time ago, wanted to laugh, but Beth just shook her head. 

“Walkers, hundreds of them,” Beth explained, ignoring Rose as she shivered. 

“Oh,” Rose sighed, playing with her hair a bit more and crumpling up the wrapper and tossing it perfectly into the nearby trash can, “Daryl is really handsome, in a backwoods country boy kind of way,” She told her, obviously trying to shift the conversation away from what a  _ herd  _ was, a glint of amusement in her eyes. 

“He is,” Beth quietly laughed, wondering how she got herself into this conversation and if she could get out of it while she reached over to grab another pack of Oreos. She remembered Daryl mentioning they were one of his favorites, so she was going to smuggle him a pack or two. 

“You two are together, right? I noticed you were put in the same apartment when Mrs. P brought you in,” It was an honest question, no ill-intent, but Beth wasn’t really sure how to answer. No, they weren’t involved in a romantic relationship. They were, what Beth would consider, best friends, but that could have been because of their circumstances. Their friendship had been all they had for those months they were alone, so what if they weren’t as good of friends as Beth thought once there were other people around to talk to? That was a scary thought. 

But what if she said no? What if she admitted that she and Daryl were just friends and word spread and then someone got ideas? Would she be able to stand by and see Daryl happy with someone else, another girl from Woodbury? Maybe even Rose? Could she find another guy, someone closer to her age, and be able to restart and share everything about herself to him, as she had with Daryl? No, she couldn’t. She was too far gone. 

She wasn’t used to feeling jealous, and it felt foreign and awful in her throat. She couldn’t very well lie, because what if she said yes and then word got out and someone asked Daryl about it? Or even worse, Merle found out? He seemed like the type who was sadistic in their teasing. 

It took a good few conversations for Merle to understand that no, they weren’t together and no, they weren’t sleeping together ‘just for funsies,’ He had just raised an eyebrow and proceeded to hit on Beth - but she knew it was all in good fun for him, no matter how gross it was. 

“No, we’re not,” Beth sighed, settling on being truthful, stuffing the Oreos into the pocket of her sweatshirt and hoping Rose wouldn’t notice, she didn’t. 

“That’s a shame, I would have jumped him a long time ago,” Rose laughed, settling back into the couch a little further. Beth let out a little laugh as well, but it sounded forced, which Rose noticed quickly and sat up to look at Beth, a panicked look on her face. 

“I’m not like, coming onto him or anything,” she clarified, grabbing Beth’s hand all of the sudden, “What do people call it? Girl code? It’s against that.” 

Beth nearly laughed at her explanation because the thought of  _ girl code _ still being viable during the apocalypse made her want to burst out laughing, but the girl’s admission made her feel a bit better. She didn’t like this jealousy and protectiveness she felt over Daryl, he was a grown man who could make his own decisions. Beth just didn’t know how to process these new feelings, that’s all. 

“Thanks,” Beth smiled, quickly looking down to look at their clasped hands. It was strange to hold someone’s hand that was the same size, one that didn’t consume her own. Rose quickly withdrew her hand, looking apologetic once again. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable, it’s just -” She looked around as if the words she was looking for were engraved into the concrete floor, “you’re one of the only people I’ve met here that seems like they’re genuine, or honest, I guess. I feel like I’m surrounded by people who don’t understand what really happened, or what is outside those fences,” She finished, sighing. 

Beth felt sympathetic, all of a sudden because she tried to put herself into Rose’s position. If she was here alone (or at least, she assumed Rose was alone) wouldn’t she be excited if someone honest and realistic suddenly came into the fold?

So, Beth smiled, reaching for the girl’s hand. It seemed like she wasn’t the only one who thought the people in Woodbury were a little naive. 

“I understand, I just haven’t been around anyone besides Daryl in so long, I just don’t really know how to act,” She told her, as honest as she had been since she stepped into those gates. She didn’t remember how to talk to someone else without a tinge of anger or mistrust, but she didn’t want to talk to Rose that way. 

Rose smiled, “I get it, I got here a few weeks after the outbreak and some of these people never even knew what happened, they had been behind the walls since before everything started,” 

Beth nodded as Rose confirmed her beliefs, some of these people had never seen the outside, and that scared Beth more than if Woodbury was made up entirely of outsiders. 

“Besides. I won’t steal your man, I’m beginning to think I play for the other team,” Rose admitted, a blush spreading across her cheeks. 

Beth felt the tension in her chest loosen up, finally, and she threw her head back and laughed.

_ _

_ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ _

_ _ Beth tossed the final teddy bear into the stuffed toy bin with a happy sigh, surveying the clean room with a tinge of pride. It was nice to be able to see the floor. 

Most of the younger kids had already been picked up by their parents, a few lingered back, playing quietly in small groups as they waited. Beth had the nastiest headache of her life, but she felt accomplished and rewarded. Getting to see all of the toddlers clumsily drag their parents over to meet the nice lady ‘Ms. Beth,’ made her feel all fuzzy inside. Also, being gifted a small painting by one of the older girls brought tears to her eyes, and it was neatly folded in her bag ready to be tapped to their fridge. 

A woman suddenly popped her head into the room, startling both Beth and Rose out of their comfortable silence. 

“Hey, Rosie? Your little girl is done with her classes, do you want me to bring her here?” The woman asked, and Beth thought her name might have been Janice if her memory was correct. 

“Yes, I’m heading home soon, thanks Janice,’ Rose said, pushing her hair back from her face and twisting around to pop her back. 

The woman quickly disappeared from the door, leaving only the sound of her swishing skirts in her wake. 

“Who is she talking about?” Beth asked, eyeing a single doll that had been hidden under one of the art tables and tossing it into the correct bin. Kids made horrible messes, she had quickly learned. 

Before Rose could answer her question, a tiny girl, no older than five or six, fluttered into the room in a flash of blonde hair and pale skin, squealing as she launched herself into Rose’s open arms. She spoke a million miles a minute, already talking about some art project and a mean girl who made fun of her shoes. 

Beth was left shocked, to say the least, because Rose hadn’t mentioned anything about having a kid. Rose’s hand on her arm startled her out of her thoughts. 

“Sweetie, this is Beth,” Rose leaned down to be closer to the girl’s height, which wasn’t much, “she is going to be working with me for a bit,” the woman smiled, and she looked at the little girl with such adoration and love that it made Beth’s heart hurt a little bit. 

The little girl stuck her hand out, puffing her chest out and putting a big, blinding smile on her face, “I’m Melody,” 

Beth reached to take her hand, smiling in return. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Melody,” 

_ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ _

_ _ “Both of my parents died a few days after the outbreak, they were helping me raise her while I finished my GED, I took her before they… you know,” Rose explained, watching carefully as Melody skipped a few feet ahead of them. She took a deep breath, smiling a bit, “I had her when I was turning sixteen, her dad didn’t stay around once he found out I was pregnant, but it meant I had her all to myself. She was never really exposed to any of it, I made sure, but she still understands that the world isn’t safe anymore,” 

“I’m sorry,” Beth offered up a small smile, which the woman returned, but she still looked  _ sad _ . 

“It feels like forever ago, you know? It’s like I don’t even remember what the world was like before all this,” Rose sighed, kicking at the few stray leaves on the sidewalk on their walk home. Turns out, they lived in the same apartment building. 

Beth nodded because she wholeheartedly agreed. She didn’t remember what it was like before, what it felt like to go grocery shopping or worry about the next big exam in biology. They all mourned a world they never truly got to experience or took advantage of, and that was more heartbreaking than anything Beth could fathom. 

Their conversation dwindled off, quiet but warm now, and an idea suddenly popped into Beth’s head - because she didn’t want Rose to go just yet. 

“How about you and Melody come over for dinner?” Beth said, slowing her pace and watching as Rose gently told Melody to slow down as well, waiting for her answer. 

“Oh, we shouldn’t intrude, y’all are still settling in,” Rose said, looking away from Beth and smiling as Melody chased a butterfly closeby. 

“Please? I’m going to make French toast,” Daryl had never had it, and Beth had promised, after all. This was as good a place as any. 

Rose looked like she thought it over for a moment, weighing her options, and smiled.  _ _

_ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  _

_ _ The kitchen of their new apartment was now a flurry of pans and batter and it helped Beth feel as though the apartment was more than a silly decoration. The noise and laughter, coupled with the record spinning on the player, gave the whole place a warm, happy feeling that Beth hadn’t experienced in a long time. 

Melody stood on a stool in between Rose and Beth so she could see over the counter and occasionally help out (not with the stove, or knives, of course). She quickly learned that Melody loved to talk, and was loudly explaining to Beth how to make a good paper doll. 

The three of them did not hear the door open, but they sure did hear it slam shut. They all three let out some form of scream, spinning around to see Daryl, confused. Whatever anger he had was seemingly fading at the sight of two random people in their kitchen, as well as the new piece of battered toast that was firmly splattered onto their ceiling, thrown by Rose in her moment of fear. 

“Sorry,” Daryl exclaimed, holding his hands up in mock surrender, and Beth watched as Gus excitedly ran over to greet his owner. 

“You scared us,” Beth told him, turning back around to finish cutting up the strawberries they had gotten from the store. Beth’s mouth watered at the thought of strawberries. 

“Do I not get an explanation as to what’s goin’ on?” Daryl asked, leaning down to pet Gus on the head - the big lug. He still seemed tense, and Beth wanted to ask what was wrong, but she would wait to ask him later when they were alone. 

Rose turned to introduce herself, holding out her hand to shake when she obviously realized that she was covered in batter. She made a face and pulled her hand back, smiling sheepishly. 

“I would shake, but I’m a little messy, I’m Rose,” She waved, flashing a smile and turning back to her work. 

Beth wiped her hands on a nearby dishtowel and scooted a little closer to him, giving in to her instincts - she wondered if he would hug her again. She missed him today, a lot. 

“Can I talk to you for a minute?” Daryl whispered, and Beth nodded, her eyebrows scrunching in confusion. It seemed it couldn’t wait until Rose and Melody left. 

Daryl lead Beth towards the door but didn’t go outside into the hall. He eyed Rose for a moment, but she seemingly gave them their privacy and started quietly conversing with Melody about her schoolwork. 

“What’s wrong?” Beth questioned, worried. A million different things ran through her mind, but she couldn’t land on a single one, her brain too muddled from the long day of child wrangling. Was something wrong? Were they being kicked out? 

“We’re not getting our weapons back,” He told her, seemingly fuming, if his tapping foot meant anything, “they only gave back our hunting knives,” 

He pulled her knife out of his back pocket and dropped it into her hand, his already strapped to his thigh. She twisted it in her hands, the worn leather bringing a sense of safety and weight that she had missed. 

“What? Why?” Beth questioned because they couldn’t do that, right? Two hunting knives would only do so much if those walls went down. 

“They said carrying around the two bows is a little _ excessive _ ,” He said it with a tinge of disgust and a quick eye roll, “I only get my bow when I have a shift, you won’t get yours at all,” 

“They can’t do that, they’re ours!” 

“According to Merle they can, they don’t want people carrying around heavy weapons, says it scares people,” 

A light tap on her thigh stopped her from speaking further. 

Melody stood behind her, eyes expectant, she expertly maneuvered around Beth’s legs and stood in between her and Daryl, puffing out her chest and holding her hand up to shake.

“I’m Melody Daniels,” She told him, and she had to crane her head all the way back to look Daryl in the eye. Looking uncomfortable, he reached down to cautiously shake her tiny hand, his anger gone, for a bit, at least. 

“Daryl Dixon,” 

“Nice to meet you,” Melody began dragging him away from Beth towards the sofa, and Beth nearly let out a laugh at the terrified look that crossed Daryl’s face, “do you like playing fire trucks?” 

“Not really,” He told the little girl, but he gave Beth a look that said  _ we’re finishing this conversation later.  _

_ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ _

Beth and Rose finished setting the table just as Melody finished explaining the proper way to play fire trucks, with drawings and all. Daryl looked a little shell shocked, but Beth was thankful that Melody had distracted Daryl because it gave her a bit to gather her thoughts. 

Why wouldn’t they give their weapons back? If carrying around weapons wasn’t allowed, why was Merle allowed to strut around with his pirate hand? Beth had more questions than answers as they settled down at the small kitchen table, Daryl sliding into the chair right next to Beth before Melody could. 

“Have fun?” She asked, holding back a tired laugh and shooting him a small smile. It had been a long day. 

“Loads,” He told her and she laughed, moving to serve everyone at the table with Rose’s help. This better be the best goddamn French toast everyone at that table had eaten. 

She slipped a few extra strawberries onto Melody’s plate, remembering that the little girl had whispered that they were her favorite. The little girl smiled, adjusting herself in her seat, and said something that almost made Beth drop her fork. 

“Thank you, Mrs. Dixon,” 

The table became eerily quiet, Daryl and Rose’s quiet conversation about coming from the same part of Georgia coming to a screeching halt. 

Rose reached over to grab Melody’s hand, gently pushing her hair back with the other, “Honey, they aren’t married like grandma and grandpa were, they are just friends,” she explained, patting her daughter on the head, shooting a quick apologetic look at Beth. 

Melody looked sad for a moment as if the thought of she and Daryl not being married broke her heart, but quickly became distracted by the extra strawberries on her plate. 

“I’m sorry,” Rose awkwardly offered, settling back into her seat. Beth swore you could cut the tension in the air with a knife, and Beth hadn’t even glanced in Daryl’s direction yet, she didn’t have the nerve. 

However, the loud PLOP of the forgotten ceiling toast quickly made the table break out into fits of laughter, Melody’s little slip quickly forgotten. 

Beth didn’t forget though, she was going to save the thought of  _ Mrs. Dixon  _ for another day. 


	14. Governor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: DISCUSSION AND DESCRIPTIONS OF ATTEMPTED RAPE AND ASSAULT

_ However, the loud PLOP of the forgotten ceiling toast quickly made the table break out into fits of laughter, Melody’s little slip quickly forgotten.  _

_ Beth didn’t forget though, she was going to save the thought of Mrs. Dixon for another day. _

Beth could somehow feel the hands slide up and down her hips, cold and unforgiving in their path. She could feel the hot, panting breath in her ear, strained from holding her down for so long. The feeling of his tongue on the shell of her ear sent a shiver of disgust and fear down her body, paralyzing her.

No matter how much she struggled, his grip on her hips never faltered - no matter how much she kicked and screamed and howled at him to let her go. The cold hands found their way into her shirt and into her jeans, and she felt him  _ everywhere. _

She felt the crunch of leaves and ice under her back, soaking into her ripped t-shirt and could hear the sound of the wind howling through the empty branches. The sounds of her screams died with the wind, her pleas unheard and unnoticed. She tried to scream for Daryl, for Gus, even Rose, to come to help her, but none of them ever came. She only heard the harsh breathing of the man above her, shallow and harsh against her neck. 

She screamed until her throat felt raw, until her lungs burned as she breathed and her head ached, pleading for Daryl to  _ help her _ , because what else could she do? It didn’t matter how much she fought, how hard she bit or punched, the man on top of her wouldn’t budge. 

It was her nightmare, not being able to fight back, to be totally defenseless against someone. Had Daryl left her? He wasn’t coming to save her, no matter how much she screamed for him. Had Joe told him to save himself and run and he did? No, Daryl wouldn’t do that, not to her. 

She felt another set of hands grab onto her shoulders, and it felt as if she was being pulled from underwater, slow and hazy. She could hear someone shouting her name off in the distance within the trees, over and over, telling her to come back. 

_ Come back from where? I’m here, I haven’t left.  _

_ _ “Beth, wake up!” The voice shouted, closer now, and she felt a warm hand on her neck, pulling her upwards through the water and even closer to the voice, “Please, wake up Beth, come on,” 

He hadn’t left her! He came back! She wasn’t alone anymore, because she knew Daryl would find a way to save her. 

“Come on Beth, time to wake up now,” He said and she felt a hand running through her hair, another rubbing back and forth on her arm as if to warm her up. She reached out, trying to grab at the hand that was on her shoulder and beg for him to  _ help her _ , to stop the hands that were still grabbing at her feet. 

They wouldn’t go away, those hands, they kept grabbing and touching something that wasn’t theirs. It was  _ hers _ , not theirs. 

“Beth!” Daryl shouted, and Beth felt like she was finally unsubmerged, the sounds of the room around her coming back to her slowly, but she didn’t open her eyes, not yet. 

The hands stopped, and the one in her hair gentled. 

“Time to wake up Beth, come on,” Daryl whispered, nudging her shoulder, but not enough to jostle her. 

She forced her eyes open, watching as the ceiling fan made its slow circle above her, she tried to listen to the sound of Gus snoring in the other room, or focus on the glow of the streetlamps that somehow still worked outside - just trying to  _ ground herself _ . She wasn’t in the woods, there wasn’t a man trying to kill her. She was okay. 

Her body had other plans, apparently. 

The roll of her stomach and the flood of saliva in her mouth caused her to jump out of bed without hesitation, somehow maneuvering around Daryl and towards the bathroom. She made it just in time, her knees landing on the soft bath mat that had been placed there for this moment, feeling the burn of the acid and the saltiness of her tears streaking down her face and into her mouth. 

Was she throwing up in disgust or fear? She wasn’t sure anymore. Was her body trying to purge the hands away, or was it trying to ground itself too? 

She felt a hand pull her hair back, another rubbing small circles on her back. Those hands were better, she told herself, those were good hands, not bad ones. Those hands were trying to make her feel better, not hurt her. 

She didn’t have anything left in her stomach, but she continued to dry heave into the toilet bowl, sobbing -  _ why wouldn’t it go away? Why now?  _

_ _ It had been months since the woods, she had been fine for  _ five months _ . Yes, there was an occasional nightmare or random strike of fear, but it was never like this. This was her third nightmare of the week, and she was beginning to think her mind was just  _ bored _ . They had settled into a routine, no longer having to be on high alert at all times, or constantly worry about where they were going to sleep or if they were going to eat, and her mind was torturing her to amuse itself. 

“It won’t go away,” She whispered, her voice rough and awful. She didn’t think she had any more tears left. Her head hurt, when did her head start hurting? 

“I know,” Daryl whispered back, gently tugging her towards his shoulder so she could rest her head there. This was their routine when this happened, he would wake her up, she would run into the bathroom to hurl, he would hold her until she fell asleep from exhaustion and would place her back into her bed. 

“He won’t go away,” she added, pushing her face further into his t-shirt. She didn’t even remember this guy’s face, simply a blank head staring back at her while he grabbed and tugged - so why did he have so much power over her? He was dead, she knew, yet she didn’t feel satisfied. 

Daryl didn’t respond and she deflated because she knew his silence meant that he wouldn’t ever go away, not completely. She had woken Daryl from plenty of nightmares, experienced the jerking and the shouting, the  _ donts  _ and  _ pleases.  _ He had a monster that haunted him too, but it was someone he trusted and loved, someone that was supposed to protect him no matter what. 

That made her want to cry all over again. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked, running his hands through her damp hair. She was between his legs, her head resting on his shoulder and her arms wrapped around his waist. She felt like he was holding her up and if he let go, she would puddle to the floor. 

“I don’t know if I can,” She told him honestly. 

He would understand. He knew nightmares and triggers, the embarrassment you felt whenever you came to your senses. How could she even begin to explain what she was going through? Nothing happened to her, she wasn’t raped. Gus had saved her, she had saved Daryl, and they got out. 

So why was she having nightmares? Perhaps it was the  _ almost  _ that haunted her, she was  _ almost  _ raped. Her mind wanted an answer as to what would have happened if Gus hadn’t come to her rescue, wanted to see all of the different paths the moment could have taken. She felt like an unwilling passenger along for the ride. 

“Do you want some water?” Daryl asked and she nodded, letting him pull her up onto her feet and guide her back towards the bedroom. She tried to think about everything she could see, categorize it if she could, the pattern of the old quilt she slept on, the nest of blankets on the couch she could see through the open door. She watched the ticking hands of the clock, the gentle sway of the curtains from the breeze of the fan, the feeling of the carpet beneath her feet, the random stain in the corner that was unidentifiable. 

“I’ll be right back, okay?” He said, pushing her down onto the bed and wrapping the spare blanket around her shoulders. It was decorative, so it itched and pulled at her skin, but the weight around her shoulders was nice. She nodded, even though he had already left the room, studying the painting on the wall across from the bed. It was a forest scene, the sun shining through the gaps in the trees onto a small bench settled next to a creekbed. She wondered if they chose this apartment for them because of that, like,  _ oh, they lived in the woods like animals for a year, maybe this’ll make them feel at home. _

_ _ She wanted to be anywhere but the woods right now, she was sure. She shifted around on the bed, her feet no longer touching the floor because she felt as if she dangled her feet for too long that man would reach out and grab them again. She ran her hand across the quilt, damp from her sweat and twisted from her struggling. 

No, she didn’t want to sit on the bed anymore. 

She quickly shifted into the living room, towards the pile of blankets on the couch, right next to Gus’s makeshift bed on the floor. Daryl had a few pillows propped up, a book laying open on the blankets. Had he been reading when she started screaming? Could he not sleep either? There were no clocks in the apartment, but it seemed later in the nighttime, closer to dawn, when she peered out the window above the kitchen sink. 

She collapsed onto the cushions, shoving her face into the pillows and breathing in the smell of eucalyptus and firewood. 

She watched as Daryl made his way back into the bedroom, his shoulders tensing as he spun around in search of her, staring at the empty bed in confusion. She shifted so he could hear the blankets rustling, watching as his shoulders relaxed at the sight of her and moved back into the living room, glass of water in hand. 

“What’s wrong with the bed?” He asked, voice gruff, she could barely make out his features in the darkness of the room. 

_ You weren’t in it, he was _ , she wanted to tell him, but she shrugged her shoulders instead. 

“Here,” He offered her the glass and she closed her hand around it, still shaking a bit. The water felt nice on her sore throat, raw from the vomiting - or screaming - she wasn’t sure. 

“Do you want me to sit with you until you go to sleep?”  _ And then move you back to the bed,  _ his words told her. She didn’t want to sleep in her bed now, though. 

“Can I sleep with you?” She asked, reaching down to scratch Gus on the back, she hadn’t noticed the dog had scooted closer to her. 

“The bed is more comfortable than the couch,” He told her, but all she could think was  _ why do you sleep here then?  _

_ _ “Please,” 

He looked at her for a long while, examining her face, and she looked right back. He nodded suddenly, as if accepting his fate, and moved to shift her over towards the backing of the couch. She scooted as much as she could without help, squished against the cushions, lying still as he pulled the sheets and blankets over top of them. 

They settled eventually, her head on his shoulder and his arm wrapped around hers. She had her leg settled in between his, but her mind was too far away to enjoy the feeling of their skin touching. She could hear the sound of his heartbeat under her cheek. It was faster than normal, and he was warm. 

It was quiet for a long while, just the sound of their shared breathing and eventually, the sound of Gus’ snores. 

She wouldn’t be able to go asleep until she knew the answer to a question that haunted her, so she lifted her head to ask, so close that she could count the freckles on his nose. 

“Do they ever go away?” She wondered, resting her chin on his collarbone. This wasn’t like snuggling with her mother or friend, Daryl was all hard lines and calloused skin, but the feeling of him next to her comforted her more than they ever did. 

“No,” He whispered, and Beth nodded, turning her head to stare at the ceiling. His hand drew small circles on her shoulder, and she wondered if he even knew if he was doing it. 

“I miss seeing the stars,” She whispered, mostly to herself, trying to count the cracks in the plaster instead. She finished too quickly. 

Beth’s mind flashed to her latest diary entry, the pages lying open on the coffee table in front of them, her handwriting messy from disuse. 

_ It’s funny, really, how people get so used to walls. We never really notice them, how they trap us in like birds. Sometimes, the walls aren’t physical, and I feel like I have somehow come upon one. I like the sky better.  _

Daryl was about to place his book on the coffee table next to her journal, his place marked with a leaf she assumed came from outside. He was reading  _ To Kill A Mockingbird _ , and she assumed that he found it somewhere in the apartment. There were a few books on random floating shelves, mostly classics Beth had already read a thousand times and atlases for places she would never see. 

“Will you read to me?” Beth asked, her fingers fidgeting with the collar of his shirt, careful not to brush the skin there. She wanted (needed) to hear Daryl’s voice, not the sound of someone breathing in her ear and the wind howling through the trees. 

“Sure,” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Beth had woken up the next morning, burrowed in the pile of blankets and overstuffed couch cushions, she was alone. She could hear the faint sound of the shower running and Gus whining to be let into the room with his other owner. He liked to stare. 

Beth snuggled deeper into the blankets, deeply inhaling as she stretched her arms and wiggled her toes. The sun shone down onto the couch, warming the fabric around her. Gus stumbled into the living room, tail wagging as he realized that Beth was awake. She couldn’t hide her face fast enough to evade his good morning licks. 

She giggled, shoving his face out of the way so she could swing her legs out to touch the floor.  _ To Kill A Mockingbird  _ sat closed on the table, the leaf a few pages deeper than it was the night before. She didn’t remember how long Daryl had read to her, but hearing his voice helped more than anything else could have at that moment. 

While Daryl was showering, Beth laid out her clothes for the day, new ones that Rose had gifted her, some from her own closet and others from the supply warehouse. It was strange wearing pretty clothes again, tank tops that were a bit too frilly around the edges and shorts that were too short to protect your legs, but the sentiment was nice. 

Beth was throwing together eggs and some fruit, still in her pajamas, when Daryl came out of the bedroom, fully dressed and showered. His hair curled at the ends and his cheeks were pink from the heat of the water, and she smiled at him as he grabbed his hunting knife from the kitchen table and strapped it to his thigh, but he never looked over at her long enough to see it. 

He quickly threw together the things he needed for his shift on the wall because even though Beth was off on weekends, Daryl was not. He didn’t need too much, his crossbow waiting for him at the wall with the other heavy weaponry, Beth briefly wondered if her bow was there as well, but she was too focused on how Daryl seemed to be avoiding her. 

“Do you want eggs?” She asked, watching his back as he double-checked and rechecked if he had everything, which she knew he did. He shook his head, patting Gus on the head as he headed towards the door. 

“I already ate,” He told her, and before she had time to ask what he was out the door and it shut with a  _ bang!  _

Ouch? 

What was all that about? Had she done something wrong last night? Had she unknowingly crossed a line when she asked to sleep next to him? She thought it was innocent enough, she barely even remembered most of it! 

A nasty smell crept into her nostrils, something burning, and she realized that her eggs had turned black. She let out a curse, tossing the scalding pan into the sink with a little more force than needed. The sound startled Gus, sending him into a barking fit, and Beth quickly tried to shush him, but the burn of tears in her throat caused the dog’s name to come out with a ugly sob. 

A few tears slipped out, burning her cheeks, but she wiped them away before they could finish their path, determined not to cry. Had she done something wrong? Had something she said angered or made him uncomfortable? Had her asking if the nightmares ever went away caused him to revert back into his unemotional shell? She  _ hated _ this Daryl. This Daryl made her want to cry and yell because she did not deserve to be treated like they weren’t friends. Though she wasn't sure what they were, it wasn't whatever that was. Both she and Daryl had worked too hard to overcome their differences and own troubles to revert back to unemotional confrontation. 

So, Beth took a deep breath to realign herself, frantically wiping away her tears before they fell. Her mind searched for something to occupy itself because if it was a weekday, she could head over to work and have the screaming toddlers take her mind off of everything, but it was Saturday, and she was alone. 

She fell onto a memory, the feeling of running through the fields of the farmhouse she and Daryl had holed up in for most of the winter, that satisfying burn thrumming through her chest. 

She needed to _ hit something.  _

Rose was unavailable (and didn’t seem like the violent type, if Beth was being honest) and Daryl wasn’t an option for multiple reasons. There was only one other person in Woodbury she could go to, she just hoped he was up for it. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The door opened so suddenly it caused Beth to stumble back onto her heels, a wave of liquor and nicotine quickly hitting her square in the chest. Beth tried to control her facial expressions, but the smell was worse than the rot of a human being. 

“The fuck you doing here, blondie?” Merle growled, leaning on the edge of the door frame with an annoyed glint in his eyes and the smell of something sour on his breath. Beth’s mind flashed back to Daryl telling her alcoholism ran in the family, and it seemed like one brother handled his addiction much better than the other. The stories Merle Dixon dealing drugs, holing up an on the run prostitute or gang member in his home, or even the astronomical amount of times he had been to prison all came back to Beth at once, and she wondered if this truly was a good idea. 

“I bought brownies?” Beth’s voice sounded small, even to her, she just sounded tired. She held the bag up to his face, hoping he could smell the freshly baked sweets from the bag. She had the ingredients stored in the cabinet just in case Melody was ever over, because the girl had told her a few days after meeting that she didn’t really remember what chocolate had tasted like. 

“You make ‘em?” He was caving, because Beth was smart. She had already won him over with her spaghetti a few weeks prior, she could definitely win him over with brownies. 

“Just for you, Dixon,” 

“What do you want?” He grumbled but opened the door just enough to let her slide in. The sight of his apartment made her sick to her stomach, beer and liquor bottles littered every available surface, empty food packets, and cans spread across the kitchen like an infestation - it looked like a pigsty. 

“Why does there have to be a reason for me visiting you?” She asked him, tossing the brownie bag into his open hands and waiting for Gus to follow her inside before she closed the door behind her. Gus was her backup plan because Merle was always nicer when the dog was around. 

“Quit pulling my dick, girl, what do you want?” 

Here it goes, she hadn’t thought about how she would ask, only threw together a pan of brownies faster than she ever had in her life and headed across Woodbury with a shaky plan. 

“I need to hit something,” Beth sighed, and when Merle looked at her incredulously, placing his hands on his hips and scanning her form up and down, she felt like her last option was bailing on her too. 

“Well, I ain’t letting you hit me, my daddy did enough of that,” He told her and laughed at her expression of obvious irritation, but she pushed the thoughts of what Will Dixon had done to his kids out of her mind for now. 

“I…” She lost her words, taking a deep breath, “I just need to hit something, I need to get outside of those walls and hit something,” She would even take killing walkers if it meant that she could think about something else for a while. 

“What’s got you so angry? My brother been picking on you?” He growled, and she tried not to think too hard on the protective edge to his tone, so similar to Daryl’s, because she wasn’t able to comprehend those emotions at that moment. 

“No, it’s not Daryl, not really,” She admitted, because even if his behavior to her this morning was part of it, she knew deep down that last night’s nightmare had shaken her to her very core. 

“Is it the nightmares?” Merle asked, and her stomach dropped. 

Beth spun around to look at him, eyebrows raised, because how  _ the hell  _ would he know about them? He smiled at her and it made her want to punch him suddenly. 

“I’m a nosey bitch who loves to gossip and Daryl can’t keep a secret to save his fucking life, not with me anyways,” He laughed, picking up the nearest bottle and taking a rather long swig, Beth sincerely hoped he had the day off. 

Daryl telling him about them made Beth feel a bit better because now she wouldn’t have to go home and debug their apartment. 

She nodded, wringing her hands at her waist, wondering what all Daryl had told his older brother. Did he know what happened? She sincerely hoped not, because Merle seemed like the type to make fun of her, not help her. 

The man slammed the bottle down onto the kitchen table, shifting towards what she assumed was the bedroom, kicking a vodka bottle out of the way. 

“I’ve got something, lemme get dressed,” He disappeared for a moment, but his head soon popped out, a warning finger pointed in her general direction, “Don’t touch anything, ya hear?” 

Beth nodded, because who knew what sort of diseases lay in wait for their next host in this apartment. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The sun shone down harshly onto Beth’s shoulders, the frilly tank top she was wearing leaving her bare to its heat. They stood in the middle of a courtyard filled with abandoned cars, she assumed they came from the main street, and they were lined just close enough that you could easily walk through them. They were still inside the walls of Woodbury, though she wasn’t sure where. 

“Really?” Beth asked, shocked because Merle had handed her a beat-up baseball bat and a pair of what looked like high school chemistry goggles. She still wasn’t sure what to do with the bat. 

“Damn straight, get to it, I got a date later,” He told her with a smirk, and she shuddered at the expense of the poor woman that would have to deal with the man later, but she was sure her idea of date and his idea were very different. 

She looked around again, eyeing the rusted metal of the car bodies, all jagged edges, and tetanus, “What do I do?” 

“The fuck do you mean ‘what do I do,’ you hit the car, dumbass,” He growled, chucking Gus’ tennis ball across the courtyard for Gus to find. The dog was getting a little chunky, being cooped up in the apartment all day. 

“I get that, you asshole, I meant that this is a stupid idea,” She argued, because Beth had rarely ever thrown a tantrum before, let alone destroy something for relief. She heard Merle lean against the chain-link fence, his arms crossed as he lit a cigarette that he must have pulled from his ass while Beth hadn't been looking. 

“There’s that bitchy personality I’ve heard so much about! Drop the Barbie facade and hit the thing, ‘kay?” He said, and Beth got the distinct feeling she was being insulted, but before he could say anything else Beth had slammed the bat down onto the hood of the nearest car with a BANG! Even with only one hit, she felt  _ so much _ better. 

She hit and she hit, smashing the side mirrors and windshield, beating the trunk, sides, and hood until it was covered with dents and scratches that she had made. She tried to imagine that guy’s face, tried to search in her memory for it, but just hitting it while thinking of him made her feel better, imagining that it was his head that she hit over and over again. 

When she had finished, too tired to go on, she realized that she had destroyed two cars in her blind rage. A weight had been lifted off her chest, she realized, and her shoulders could finally relax. Her breath was fast and harsh, and her arms burned and her ears rang, but it didn’t matter - because she felt somewhat normal again. 

“Atta girl,” Merle said, startling her, throwing the ball again for Gus, who was slowing down tremendously with exhaustion. 

“What do you mean, drop the facade?” She asked him, setting the bat down on the concrete so she wouldn’t get the urge to hit something else and reaching down to adjust one of the laces on her boot. 

“I saw you arguing with that guard, you were nasty, and I’ve heard enough from Daryl to know there’s one feisty son of a bitch in there somewhere,” He told her and she scrunched her face in confusion because Merle was now very close to her and scanning the windows of the nearest building as if they were being watched. 

“Don’t let Woodbury tame you, okay? Don’t let her break you in like a new pair of boots,” He whispered and all she could do was nod, because how could you possibly decipher something like that? 

“What happened to me shouldn’t bother me so much,” She whispered, assuming that he knew what happened. She was tired of feeling weak, tired of feeling like people needed to protect her. She knew that this nasty voice in her head was wrong, that Beth  _ could  _ protect herself, but it still cut into her confidence like a knife. She wanted to be strong for the old Beth, wanted to make her proud of who she had become. 

“It should bother you, girl,” Merle spoke, “You were raped, that would bother anybody normal,” 

She quickly shook her head, kicking the baseball bat until it hit the closest tire, deflated with age. 

“Almost,” She choked because that word was going to haunt her, “I wasn’t raped,” 

“Doesn’t make what they were doin’ any better,” He told her and she wanted to ask more, but the slam of a nearby metal door pulled her attention towards the building behind them. 

Merle stepped away from her as if she was diseased, whistling for Gus and grabbing ahold of his collar once he was close enough. Beth eyed him with confusion, searching for whatever shifted the man’s behavior so suddenly that it gave her whiplash. She was finding more and more similarities between Daryl and his brother every day, it seemed. 

She spotted a middle-aged man walking towards them, a few other men following closely behind him, mindlessly. With the pristine state of his button-up and the obnoxious curl to his hair, paired with the confident smile, she assumed this man was the infamous Governor she had heard so much about. 

Rose spoke of him often, and it wasn’t hard to eavesdrop on people’s conversations when they were so unguarded in public. He was revered as a savior, leading and building this community from the ground up, and people looked blindly to him for answers and it made Beth sick to her stomach. She had read plenty of stories and knew how violently rulers fell when they were no longer wanted. 

Merle occasionally grumbled about him, but this was the first time Beth was seeing the man outside of the pretty little townhouse he resided in. Perhaps they had different social circles, but Beth wasn’t impressed with what she was seeing. 

He smiled at her, but in a way that made her skin crawl, and she suddenly wished she hadn’t kicked the bat so far away. 

“Hello, there,” The man smiled, blinding white. She recognized a few of the men behind him, either from seeing them around town or watching their children during the day. She tried not to notice that they all carried guns, because what happened to weapons scaring the community? 

He turned to Merle, a tilt to his head, “Merle, introduce us,”

Introduce them? Could he not ask Beth her name himself? Oh, how she hated that. Was it above him or something? She wasn’t going to puff out her chest and shake his hand like Melody, but she wasn’t about to let Merle Dixon speak for her like she was a child. 

“I’m Beth,” She said, meeting the man’s eyes, they were too blue, she decided, but held her ground. She tried not to sigh as he crossed the empty space between them, hand held out expectantly, because  _ dammit,  _ she didn’t want to shake this man’s hand. 

They shook, and Beth felt gross afterward. She stepped away from the man in front of her, who quickly followed, and she nearly backed into Merle’s chest. Beth found it very funny, the fact that the two men she felt safe with were people she would have avoided in another life. 

“I’m Phillip Blake, now tell me, how did I miss such a beautiful girl walking around?” He asked, still, smiling, she didn’t like him, Beth decided. 

Before she could answer (how do you even answer that question?) Merle spoke quickly from behind her, a hand now on her elbow, and the entire situation confused the hell out of her, specifically what Merle said next. 

“She’s my little brother’s wife, I was keeping her company while he was out on shift,” 

_ Huh?  _

_ _ Merle continued, “I was just ‘bout to take her home, he gets off soon and will want her home,” and Beth reeled at the suggestion that Daryl  _ wanted _ her home, who knew she was now playing the role of a cute little housewife. 

“That’s too bad, I was hoping to get to know your family a bit better, Merle, maybe figure out how you tick,” He joked, letting out a loud laugh, neither Beth nor Merle joined in, “The whole Dixon family should come over for dinner sometime, I would love to meet the brother you apparently talk so much about,” 

The offer didn’t seem like an offer, more like an order, but before Beth or Merle could make an excuse or politely decline, the second slam of that metal door caught all of their attention. Beth saw a blonde ponytail behind some of the men, pushing its way through. 

“Phillip -” The woman’s words stopped, locking eyes with Beth. 

“Beth?” 

_ Andrea. _


	15. Stars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of the few things I wanted to change about this story was adding more of Daryl's POV, and although I am not as comfortable at writing his POV as I am Beth's, I'm trying! I hope I am getting his characterization right and any help or thoughts would be greatly appreciated because as the story progresses, Daryl's POV will be needed more and more.  
I hope everyone is enjoying this story and has a great rest of the week! 
> 
> \- bee

_ The offer didn’t seem like an offer, more like an order, but before Beth or Merle could make an excuse or politely decline, the second slam of that metal door caught all of their attention. Beth saw a blonde ponytail behind some of the men, pushing its way through. _

_ “Phillip -” The woman’s words stopped, locking eyes with Beth. _

_ “Beth?” _

_ Andrea._

“So you weren’t a hitman?” Max asked him and Daryl rolled his eyes for what felt like the umpteenth time today. If he did it again he was sure that he was going to get a headache. Max seemed to bring those on. 

Daryl shook his head no, scanning over the residential area beyond the wall, his eyes were tired and his shoulders were burnt from the sun, but he knew his shift would be over soon. He sincerely hoped Max would shut up before that. 

The kid had started a game a few days ago (that only he was playing), trying to guess what Daryl had done before the turn, because he was apparently _ hard to read _, whatever the fuck that meant. 

“I’ll hit you if you keep talking,” 

Max laughed and it caused Daryl to let out a sigh, his threats didn’t seem to be taken as seriously as they used to be. Beth was rubbing off on him too much. 

Max was innocent enough, and he was occasionally good at spotting things when Daryl’s guard slipped. He couldn’t have been older than fifteen or sixteen, and Daryl wondered why he was on the wall in the first place - because it often felt like he was babysitting. Everyone else seemed to be Daryl’s own age or older that worked on the wall. 

“Walker,” Max said, and Daryl gestured for him to take care of it, watching as he fired the silenced .22 and missed, and fired again. It took a few more tries for him to get a headshot, and the boy let out a sigh. Daryl wasn’t too worried about him using too much ammo, because there was enough in that weapons building for a few more years of Max’s bad shot. 

“Stop holding your gun with one hand, you’re not in a fucking gangster movie,” Daryl grumbled, adjusting his position. He hated working on the wall, his ass went numb and it was so boring it made Daryl want to turn his crossbow on himself, but it was better than going outside the walls with a group of people he didn’t trust. It was also better than Beth’s job, wrangling toddlers, the idea of it made Daryl want to shiver. 

“It’s just automatic,” Max said, throwing himself back down onto his own foldable chair a little rougher than necessary. Daryl was surprised he didn’t tip it over. 

“Well, fix it,” Daryl spat, and he felt a flash of regret for talking to him that way, because he was just a kid, but he was too preoccupied with his own issues to deal with teaching someone a skill they should have been taught a long time ago. 

Daryl’s mind was too focused on Beth to think about much else. He was replaying last night and this morning over and over in his head, trying desperately to decipher what it all meant. 

He couldn’t look at her this morning because he couldn’t look at how _ tired _ she was since the nightmares had started, the defeated slump of her shoulders as she moved. She was the positive one, and he couldn’t watch the Beth he had witnessed grow and change after she lost her home and her family wither away, eaten up by her nightmares.

He was someone who had always wanted to be helpful, because he felt like doing something gave him worth, but he couldn’t help Beth through this, she had to do that on her own. 

No matter how much he wanted to take away her nightmares, he couldn’t do it, and that pissed him off. 

And now she probably hated him. He had felt her eyes watching him as he got ready this morning and he saw how her eyes welled up with tears when he left, and he hated himself for it. 

He had no idea how to fix it, because he wasn’t good with words and he wasn’t sure what she _ wanted _ from him. He didn’t like how he felt about Beth, this raging sense of possessiveness and fondness, but he wasn’t sure if it was because he had never felt it before or because she was _ Beth. _

She was too young, and too naive, even if she didn’t think she was. He felt gross and horrible every time he touched her. His dad had young girlfriends after his mother had died, and Daryl tried to avoid resembling him in every way possible. 

Hershel Greene was one of the only fucking people Daryl respected, and the thought of him knowing how Daryl felt about Beth made him want to rip his skin off. He didn’t believe in Heaven, but if Hershel Greene was dead and was somehow watching over them, Daryl didn’t want to risk it. 

Because he _ liked _Beth. She was the first person he could honestly call a friend and someone he actually liked spending time with. He liked talking to her and making her laugh because she seemed so happy when she laughed - she gave off this air kindness and _good _that Daryl had never experienced, and he didn’t want to lose that. 

Being close to her made up for all of the torment and awfulness of his childhood, and even the world ending, and Daryl wasn’t sure how to comprehend that.

Max shifted next to him, uncomfortable with long silences, something he was going to have to get over if he worked on the wall for much longer. 

It was usually just him and Max on the South wall, with the two others that Daryl didn’t bother talking to that took the night shifts. The rest seemed to be moved to the groups who went outside to find supplies, and Daryl didn’t like what they were looking for. 

Words like _ tanks _ and _ grenades _were thrown around in conversation, and Daryl wondered why the hell Woodbury would need supplies like that, because what the fuck would you need a tank for? He hadn’t been able to talk to Merle about it, but he planned on it. And soon. 

Footsteps heading up the ladder signaled to Daryl and Max that their shift was over, and if Daryl could assume the time based on where the sun was at, the next shift was here early. Daryl felt relief at the idea because he had a plan, it was stupid and pitiful, but it was a plan. He couldn’t have Beth mad at him, and he couldn’t bear to see her sad either, and it seemed he was the cause of one of those emotions and he wasn’t sure which. 

Max told him goodnight, and Daryl half-heartedly returned it. He was a nice kid, just annoying as fuck. His chatty mouth was going to get him punched one day. The man that seemed to always be at the bottom of the ladder under one of those sports tents where all of the weapons for the wall were kept grumbled to himself as Daryl walked closer. They didn’t get along. 

“Bow and all the arrows, boy,” The man said, and Daryl rolled his eyes. They had been through this a dozen times by now, and what the fuck was he going to do if he took a single arrow home? Prick people? 

He threw his bow onto the table with an eye roll, tossing the extra arrows next to it. He wondered where Beth’s bow was. 

The man pointed a bony finger at his chest, “Watch your attitude, boy,” 

Daryl _ mhm’ed _and hurried away from the wall, ignoring the stares he received as he made his way back to the apartment building. People knew Merle around Woodbury, and they seemed to think Daryl would be a carbon copy, stomping around like he owned the place. He hoped he didn’t give that impression. He had to make a stop before going home, but he wondered if Beth stayed home today. He also wondered if she was still in her pajama shorts. 

_ No! _

Before Daryl could think about where the hell _ that _thought came from, a familiar voice yelled his name from somewhere next to him, When he looked off into the grassy area to his left, he spotted fiery red hair piled into a bun and a woman sitting neatly on a blanket. A group of children played close to her. 

“Daryl!” Rose waved at him, a smile on her face. Daryl didn’t return it, because the woman reminded him so much of his mother that it made him sick, but he turned to head in her direction anyway. If Rose was there, Melody wasn’t too far behind, and he needed the little girl’s help. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Merle walked Beth back through the streets of Woodbury in silence, picking at the skin around the clasp of his prosthetic. Beth had never asked him about what happened, but she did often wonder how he functioned with a ten-inch knife strapped to his arm. Did you just pop it off like a Mr. Potato Head piece at night?

People milled about the streets, going home after a long day or shifting to take over during the night, chatting happily among one another. She wondered if Daryl was off yet. 

Beth occasionally glanced over at Merle, just begging for him to say something, but she knew why he wasn’t talking. How did you even begin to talk about what happened? 

After Andrea had made her way into the courtyard, a little skinnier, hair a little longer, she looked at Beth as if she was a ghost. She had to tell herself that Andrea was seeing a ghost because everyone probably thought she was dead. And why was Andrea any different? Hadn’t she been the one to slip Beth the knife and recommended that she end it? Yes, Andrea definitely thought she had been dead. 

It wasn’t like it mattered, Andrea hadn’t spoken a word to her anyway. At least, not directly. She smiled and introduced herself, shaking Beth’s hand, and then shared the Governor’s interest in having dinner with her and her ‘husband’ sometime soon. 

Beth tried not to feel angry towards Merle for not talking, but he was their only access to what was going on within Woodbury, what was _ actually _ going on, because a place that ran this smooth and lovely had skeletons in their closet. They only had Merle because Beth wasn’t sure if she could stand talking to Andrea, she hadn’t even liked her back on the farm, for crying out loud, let alone now when Beth was prone to becoming very angry very fast. The Dixon’s were rubbing off too much on her. 

Did Merle know that she knew Andrea? Did he recognize the brief moment of recognition on both of their faces? 

A more pressing issue was on Beth’s mind, and she found it completely silly. 

“Why did you tell him I was Daryl’s wife?” She wondered, cursing herself because of all of the important questions, that was the one that slipped out. She was in too deep. 

It didn’t seem like Merle had heard her, because he kept walking, occasionally waving or saluting to a man that walked passed who looked like they had some vague importance. She was about to demand he answer her question when he grabbed her arm and pulled her off into a wooded area some people used as a small park. It seemed empty compared to when Beth passed it this morning, but there were still a few groups enjoying quiet picnics. 

It was moments like these that Beth realized just how far the delusions of the Woodbury people went, how clueless they were as to what was outside waiting for them. Two girls from the school, Beth thought one of their names might have been Lizzie, waved at her from afar. 

It seemed Merle was satisfied with their distance from everyone, but he still looked around as if he was worried someone might overhear him. 

“You’d have been in big trouble if I hadn’t, he’s done it before, staking a claim on random girls, when he gets bored of you he tosses you to his rookies,” He whispered, hand still latched onto her elbow as if to hold her in place. 

Beth fumed, “So belonging to someone keeps me safe?” Why was it always like this? _ Is she with you? Is she yours? _Like, what the hell? Did the end of the world just mean that men could run rampant, to do whatever they pleased with the women who were still around? She thought of Rose, had the Governor claimed her and then thrown her away like a piece of trash? She hoped not. 

“Safer,” Merle told her and Beth had to resist the urge to roll her eyes. 

“Do you not trust him? Y’all seem like good buddies,” She spat because though he didn’t talk about him often, Merle had only said good things about Phillip Blake before all of this. 

“I don’t,” 

“Then why the fuck did you bring us here?” Beth questioned, biting her tongue, because why would Merle bring them into a situation even he didn’t trust? And not even that, how bad did a situation have to be for Merle Dixon not to trust it? 

Merle let go of her arm, crossing them over his chest, “I wasn’t thinking, girl, I just found my baby brother after a year of thinking he might’ve been dead, I couldn’t let him get away from me again,” He sighed, scrubbing at his five o’clock shadow that had filled in his cheeks. Beth calmed then, because could she let Maggie go if she was in a similar situation? Shawn? No, she couldn’t. 

“Why do you not trust him?” Beth wondered because although he gave off weird vibes, she had only heard good things. She still wondered why Andrea played along and acted as if she had never met Beth in her life, had she hated her that much on the farm? 

“Listen, blondie, this ain’t the time or the place, go skedaddle back to my brother, I’m tired of babysitting,” He dismissed her, an angry tone to his voice, he walked away from her towards the sidewalk, but Beth followed. 

“You have to tell us what is going on, Merle, at least tell Daryl,” Beth pleaded because she couldn’t stand not knowing. If he told Daryl, Daryl would tell her. 

“I’m not telling you here,” He told her, obviously done with the conversation, “Go home, Beth,”

Beth nodded, shocked that he had used her given name, and slunk back towards her apartment building more confused than she left it. 

“Blondie,” Merle called after her and she turned, eyebrow raised in question, “They are always listening, be careful,” 

What had they gotten themselves into? 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Gus launched himself onto the sofa the moment Beth fully opened the front door, lunging for the teddy bear he had left earlier. Beth felt like doing the same, but at a much slower pace. Her head felt like it might explode if she blinked too hard and her arms were too sore to raise above her head. 

Merle’s closing words echoed through her head, was he right, that they were always listening? God, did she actually have to debug their apartment? She hoped not, she wasn’t raised on 007 movies. 

“Whatcha doing?” A voice said and Beth screamed, chucking her water bottle in the general direction of the voice, it landed with a very loud CLUNK on the hardwood floors, rolling off into some corner. Once she recognized the source of the voice, Beth covered her eyes in embarrassment, listening as Rose laughed. 

“How did you get in here, Rose?” Beth sighed, pressing the heels of her palms into her eyes, pushing hard enough until spots clouded her vision. 

“There are no locks on any of the doors, Beth,” Rose told her calmly, still laughing, but Beth only had another bullet point to add to her list of reasons _ why Woodbury is weird. _

Beth’s interest piqued at the sound of giggling coming from the bedroom, from behind the closed door. Beth pointed in question, very confused as to why Daryl and Melody were alone in there together, but Rose just shrugged and rolled her eyes, 

“I don’t know, they’re planning something, I didn’t get to ask a lot of questions,” 

Beth shrugged her shoulders, collapsing onto the couch next to Rose and Gus. Melody and Daryl had become fast buddies, God only knew what they were doing. 

“Long day, hun?” Rose asked, and _ oh, you have no idea. _

“Very,” Beth sighed, because although she wanted to confide in Rose and tell her everything, could she be someone who was listening? Was she running back to the Governor and his cronies to tell them everything Beth and Daryl said? 

No, she wouldn’t do that. Would she? 

“Bethie!” 

Beth smiled, though it took a lot out of her to do so, reaching out to catch the blur of blonde hair as Melody flung herself into her lap. Daryl followed soon after, taking up the armchair across from Beth. 

Were they on speaking terms now? She wasn’t very mad at him now, maybe a bit disappointed, but not mad. She knew Daryl, and she knew to expect rapid shifts in behavior and emotion whenever a line was crossed that he was uncomfortable or unfamiliar with - and they apparently crossed an important one last night. She only hoped there were only good things on the other side of that line. 

Melody’s face too close to her own drew Beth’s attention away from Daryl, and she smiled at the girl, “How was your day, sweetheart?” She played with the small butterfly clips that were clipped into her hair, holding onto the small strips of hair that were too short for a braid. They had spent an entire Saturday together braiding a doll’s hair so that Melody could braid her own just like Beth’s. 

“It was good, me and mama spent the day outside,” Melody told her, playing with the end of Beth’s braid. Beth wanted to talk to the little girl, but she was too exhausted to play nice right now. 

“That’s cool, little bean,” Beth sighed, and Rose seemed to catch onto the fact that Beth was just too tired because she grabbed the little girl’s hand and said a quick goodbye, telling Beth cheerfully that she would see her Monday morning. God, she didn’t even want to think about wrangling toddlers right now. 

The door closed with a sense of finality, leaving Beth and Daryl alone. Beth sensed that he was expectant, almost like he was waiting for her to meltdown. Did she seem that tense? 

“Are you okay? He questioned, his voice quiet, he looked her in the eyes, but he somehow looked careful as he did it. 

“I think so,” 

Daryl nodded, asking her “Where were you all day? Rose said she tried to bring you food but you weren’t here,” and she swallowed thickly, why was Rose coming around on the weekends now? Beth remembered being told that Saturday and Sundays were for her and Melody to spend time together. 

She remembered that Daryl expected an answer and she sighed, “I was with Merle,” 

Daryl looked as if he had been struck, and the blatant look of confusion would have been amusing to Beth if she wasn’t preoccupied with so many other things. 

“Why the fuck were you with Merle all day?” 

Why had she gone to see Merle again? Ah, yes, to hit something. Should she tell Daryl that, though? Not now, she decided. 

“He was nice to me and I was bored,” she explained, swatting her hand as if it wasn’t important, and although it wasn’t entirely a lie, she still felt bad not telling Daryl the complete truth. 

Daryl still looked confused, that furrow in his brow that Beth wanted to reach out and smooth made an appearance, and she felt a rush of fondness for the man in front of her. 

“Am I not nice?” Daryl asked, his voice quiet, and Beth couldn’t interpret the odd look in his eye before it was gone. Was it _ jealousy _?

“You’re wonderful,” She told him earnestly, giving him a small, tired smile, but continued, “I met the Governor today,” 

That caught his attention, and his face became straight and emotionless once again, Beth really needed to learn how to do that. 

“And?” 

“He makes me uncomfortable,” she sighed, thinking back to the gross feeling of his hand on hers, “And Andrea is here,” she added, almost as an afterthought. She tried not to think about Andrea more than she had to. 

“Andrea is alive? Is she alone?” Daryl asked, scooting closer in his seat, had they been close back on the farm? Hadn’t she been the one to shoot and almost kill him? No, they weren’t close. 

“I think she’s alone, she acted like she had no idea who I was,” The odd behavior still unnerved Beth, and she wondered what the woman’s motive was. 

They both stayed quiet for a while after that, processing separate things. Beth happily noticed that the air between them had returned to normal, warm and reassuring. 

The door swinging open startled them both out of their thoughts and Daryl let out a curse, both watching as Merle stomped his way across the wood floor towards the kitchen table without a word. 

“Heard you got off early,” He explained, plopping himself down onto one of the chairs, which gave a groan of protest, and slung his boots up onto another. They were all quiet, waiting for the other to talk or explain, but no one did. 

Daryl broke first, asking, “Do we need to leave?” and Beth wondered if he had already connected the dots, or if he had a few of his own. 

“Not yet, I don’t think,” Merle shook his head, patting Gus on the head absentmindedly. He let out a sigh, turning to look at Beth, “Y’all are going to have to come to dinner sometime this week, I couldn’t get you out of it,” 

“Why does he want to eat dinner..?” Daryl questioned, seemingly lost for the moment, but it seemed a light went off in his head and he asked, “Is he going to interrogate us or something?” 

Merle shook his head, “Naw, I just think he’s curious about you two,” 

Curious didn’t make Beth feel any better, she would rather be interrogated, if she was being honest. 

“Why do you sound like you’re not telling us something?” Beth questioned because Merle couldn’t be this worried about the Governor being curious about them. 

“He’s got some weird shit going on, behind the scenes, weird experiments and sketchy shit he’s got people doing, I don’t know what to think of it, honestly, I don’t think he trusts me too much.” 

“Why are the scavengers trying to find tanks?” Daryl asked, and Beth whipped her head around to look at him, confused. That was the first she had heard of that. 

Merle laughed, shaking his head, “There’s a prison a few exits down, scouts say there’s already a group livin’ there, but Blake wants it to himself, and he’ll take it,” 

Daryl and Beth made brief eye contact while Merle continued to laugh quietly to himself at the thought of tanks because they knew the prison too, and they had seen glimpses of the people that had lived there - that seemed peaceful enough. 

“What about the people who live there?” Beth asked, thinking of the baby Daryl apparently saw, would they be welcomed into Woodbury as she and Daryl had been? What did the Governor want to do with the prison? 

Merle laughed again, rougher this time, reaching into his pocket for the pack of cigarettes he carried with him, but Beth cleared her throat before he had the chance to open his lighter. 

He eyed her, but rolled his eyes and stuffed the cigarette back into his front pocket with a curse, “He’ll kill them, probably, if they don’t want to come peacefully,” 

Daryl and Beth seemed to take this in at the same time, remaining quiet, waiting for Merle to continue, but the man just let out a heavy sigh. 

“It’s only rumors right now, we’ll deal with it, I guess,” Merle explained, again, playing with the skin around his prosthetic. She could tell he was done with the conversation, or he just couldn’t tell them much else. Beth sighed, standing up to move into the kitchen to start dinner. 

Daryl followed without her asking, and she was grateful. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The door slammed with Merle’s departure, his goodbye quick and harsh before he mumbled something about a shift he needed to work and disappeared out the door in a flourish. They hadn’t spoken about the Governor again over their dinner of spaghetti, mostly sticking to the safe topics of music and movies. Beth loved Elvis, Merle hated it, and Daryl would only give a political answer as to not upset either party. It was nice, not having to think about the possibility of packing up their bags and having to be on the run again, but the threat still lingered in the back of her mind. She was sure it lingered in Daryl’s as well. 

They were in the middle of their nightly routine, doing their dirty dishes before getting ready for bed separately. Beth washed and Daryl dried, and it took a bit longer because of the extra place setting. 

She had been humming quietly to herself when Daryl broke their comfortable silence, almost too quiet for Beth to hear over the sound of the tap and her scrub brush. 

“I’m sorry,” He told her, swinging open the cabinet above his head to return the plates back to their proper place, and Beth’s mind raced. What was he sorry for? 

“For what?” She asked honestly, halting her attack on a rather sticky sauce patch to look him in the eyes, which he gently rolled. 

“For how I acted this morning, you didn’t deserve that,” 

Beth nearly wanted to laugh, because was Daryl becoming self-aware? Was he apologizing for his behavior? Beth felt like she was slipping into an alternate universe. 

“I’m used to your mood swings by now, sweetheart,” She joked, elbowing him in the side in an attempt to lighten the mood because although it was nice to hear, apologies made Beth feel awkward. 

Daryl flicked his wet dish towel at her face, sending a few droplets onto her cheeks, and she laughed. It felt good in her chest, heavy and warm.

They slipped back into a comfortable silence, finishing up their chore. As Beth moved to wipe the table down, Daryl grabbed her arm and redirected her towards the closed bedroom door. 

“Melody helped me set up a surprise for you,” He told her, and Beth raised her eyebrows in shock. Daryl didn’t seem like the kind to do surprises, Melody? Yes. Daryl? Absolutely not. He continued to pull her towards the bedroom and she tossed the rag in her hand onto the table before she was too far away to do so. She wondered what it would feel like if he was pulling her towards the bedroom to do something else. 

_ Ooo, bad territory, Beth. _

Daryl jerked her into the bedroom, placing him in front of her, facing the bed, and she watched as he quickly shut the blinds that barely showed the sunset. 

“Ready?” He asked and she nodded, listening to the click of the light switch and trying to quickly adjust to the dark room. What would Daryl and Melody have done that required them to be in the dark? 

The room went dark, except it didn’t, a faint glow was coming from the ceiling, now covered in little glow in the dark stars. A little sky inside the walls of her bedroom. 

“She had them in her bedroom, apparently, someone found them on a run and gave them to her, she thought you needed them more, though.” He told her, but Beth honestly hadn’t heard him, staring up at the little stickers. She tried to bite down the tears that were threatening to spill out. 

“I mean,” he continued, “they’re fluorescent green, and they keep falling off, but she thought they would make you feel better,” 

She knew he was lying, knew that _ she _ meant _ I, _ because he was the one she had whispered to about missing the stars last night. _ He _ would have had to ask Melody if she had little star stickers because he thought they would make her feel better. The tears came anyway, and she spun around to bury her face into his flannel. 

“Thank you,” She whispered and he nodded against her hair, rubbing soothing circles on her lower back. She wanted to look up and see his face, to tell him that those little stickers meant a lot more than he would ever know - but a thought slammed into her then, almost like a truck, something that made her want to push her face further into his flannel shirt. 

_ This is what loving someone feels like, doesn’t it? _

_ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ _   
  


That night, Beth slipped into bed (her own, now with stars) more tired than she had been in a long time. She had too much to think about, what would happen if they had to leave, the Governor, Andrea, and now the thought that she might possibly be in love with Daryl - it was all too much. 

As she slipped under her covers, she noticed that Daryl’s sheets and blankets were still folded on the couch, and she wondered why he hadn’t made his bed yet, but the feeling of the sheets being pulled down next to her and the bed dipping with the weight of him gave her an answer. 

“Scoot your ass over,” He whispered and she giggled, too tired to really comprehend what was occurring. He slipped next to her and she laid her head on his shoulder, staring up at the small stickers that gave a comfy glow to the whole room. 

Beth slept peacefully that night, not worried about what could happen, just enjoying the moment that they got to have. 

And her new fluorescent night sky, of course.


	16. Almost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! I hope everyone is safe and doing well in their self-imposed quarantine, all of this is crazy, isn't it? I hate how this chapter turned out, I worked on it for days and still don't really like the way it ended, but I knew I needed to move on. I hope you all enjoy it and look forward to what is to come. 
> 
> Wash your hands,  
bee

_ Beth slept peacefully that night, not worried about what could happen, just enjoying the moment that they got to have.  _

_ And her new fluorescent night sky, of course. _

Beth pushed the mascara tube around on the bathroom counter with disdain, unsure if she wanted to use it - or if she even remembered how. Her parents had only just let her start to wear mascara and clear lipgloss when the outbreak had started, so she hadn’t had enough time to experiment or learn any techniques. 

She had just asked to borrow a dress for dinner, but Rose had gifted Beth a small bag of makeup, a pair of heels, and a hair curler without being asked. Beth wasn’t going to turn on the curler, it would be just her luck to severely burn herself doing something so stupid. 

The dress was floral and summery, with a high-low train that flowed behind her as she got ready. She was uncomfortable with how tightly it clung to her hips, but she was a bit bigger than Rose so the sizing couldn’t be helped. She felt the need to cover herself, her mother’s voice whispering that it was too showy and too tight, but Beth didn’t have any other options; not unless she wanted to show up to the Governor’s place in ripped jeans and sweat-stained t-shirts. She was pretty close to doing so. 

It was a pretty dress, something she would have stared at in a magazine and wished she could have worn when she was younger, but it was impractical and unnecessary now. The dress felt foreign and unsafe, a forgotten relic of another time. 

Beth leaned back over the bathroom counter, putting the mascara tube out of her mind - for now. Her pen scribbled across the page of her diary, the fluffy pink tassel quivering as she went. She was determined to write more, not having written anything substantial since before they ran into Merle. She felt like writing down her thoughts and things she had heard was necessary to keep some of her sanity while in Woodbury and to keep a record of anything that had happened.

**Entry Seven, July 28th, Woodbury**

**It’s weird to be faced with relics from the world before - it’s almost like experiencing a sense of deja vu. You start to forget the things you should remember, after a while, like curling your hair before church or zipping up a dress. What place do these things have now? They are useless skills, useless knowledge of a world you can’t think about anymore, not if you want to survive. **

** The question is, will dinner with a human man be the thing to kill me? Merle flaked, saying he was too busy to babysit us over dinner, and now I honestly don’t know how tonight will go. What will happen if we say something wrong, or if we slip? Phillip Blake makes me feel uneasy, and what I have heard from Merle makes me want to avoid him at all costs, so how am I supposed to sit across from him and eat? **

** Merle is worrying me, he hasn’t been as talkative or present as he usually is. He is usually an annoying nuisance, never leaving Daryl and I alone, but he’s been absent lately, giving stupid excuses and showing up to an occasional dinner with bruised knuckles. I haven’t brought it up with Daryl yet, but I think he notices too. He notices a lot more than he gives himself credit for. **

** Daryl is a whole different story. I can barely look him in the eye after realizing how I feel, and that is that I am in love with him. How crazy is that, falling in love with your emotionally-stunted apocalypse buddy?** ** I am not sure I will ever be able to look him in the eyes again - because I have had nightmares of that man laughing in my face and turning me down, even though I wake up to him every morning. I need to come to accept the fact that he doesn’t feel the same way, because why would he? I am a child he wants to protect, almost like Sophia. And how silly and cliche does that make me? Falling in love with the person who took care of me and saved me like a knight in shining armor. It’s pathetic, really. This isn’t an end of the world movie where you find your soulmate in the slim pickings, this is just the end of the world. I just need to get my brain to understand that fact. **

** But, the thought of my family knowing I liked Daryl Dixon helps put a smile on my face during the day. I am 100% sure my father would have an aneurysm, because what father wants their little girl to ride up in love with a tattooed redneck with an attitude problem? **

**Wish me luck, **

**Beth Greene**

**Memory **

**Daryl finding and putting up glow in the dark stars for my bedroom, after I told him I missed being outside at night. Also, sharing cookies with Melody in the park. **

Beth had just finished writing the memory she wanted to keep when she heard Daryl call from somewhere in the apartment, asking if she was ready. She shut her diary and zoomed out of the bathroom, tossing a glare at the bag of cosmetics as she went. She wasn’t going to do any makeup, she decided. She threw her diary carelessly onto the bed and sat down to slip on the heels. They were white and open-toed, and she worried how she was going to make it across Woodbury in time for dinner in them - or break her ankle. 

She stood up with a wobble, clunking out into the living room with little grace, adjusting her dress as she went. She knew it wasn’t showing anything, but it sure felt like it. She wasn’t used to feeling so much air on her legs. 

Gus was on the couch, nearly asleep, but he still wagged his tail just enough to let her know he recognized her presence. She blew him a small kiss before collapsing onto one of the armchairs with a sigh, the soles of her feet already ached. Great. 

A shadow fell over her and she knew that Daryl stood behind her, and when she twisted her head to look at him she came face to face with a pissed looking Daryl, his face scrunched up in disgust - in a button-up shirt. 

Merle had told them to dress up for dinner because the Governor enjoyed it, for some ungodly reason, and he had tossed a button-up shirt (that wasn’t his, of course,) to Daryl a few days ago with a nasty smile. 

Her hand flew to her mouth and she giggled, earning her a glare, and as she stood up to get a closer look she stumbled, but Daryl’s hands caught her underarms before she hit the floor. They both laughed, and when she finally straightened out and got a good look at Daryl in a crisp white button-up and a clean face, she wasn’t sure how she felt about it. 

“I feel like an asshole,” He told her, his hands were still on her ribcage, his grip tight and warm, she hoped he kept them there for a while longer. 

“You look great,” She said, and smiled, dusting off his shoulders even if the fabric there was clean, just to touch him - she remembered her mother doing it to her father when he left for work each morning. Though this wasn’t the Daryl she knew and loved - and the fact that he looked uncomfortable - she could stand one night of it. It was for the better, anyway. They didn’t need to have an angry Governor on their backs just yet. 

“I look like an asshole,” He repeated, eyeing her hands with question as she wiped and she removed them quickly, dropping them to her sides like she had been burned. She hoped she wasn’t blushing, but his hands on her sides steadied her somewhat. The warmness of his palms seemed into the thin fabric of the dress, calming her heart a bit. She wasn’t sure if it was racing from the idea of what was about to happen or being so close to Daryl. 

“You always look like an asshole,” She smirked, poking him in the chest as she moved back towards her chair, mourning the feeling of his hands as she went. Daryl rolled his eyes and she laughed. 

“Oh, fuck you,” 

Beth patted her hips, making sure the dress was still in place from her fall. She felt like peering around, almost like she was looking for her keys and her bag, but she knew she didn’t have anything to bring. Old habits die hard, she supposed. 

“Ready?” Daryl asked and she nodded, shuffling towards the front door with as much dignity as she could muster. 

Before Daryl turned the knob, she saw his eyes look her up and down beside him, and when they made eye contact she swore he blushed.

“You look really pretty, Beth,”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Beth slipped on her heels quickly, holding onto Daryl’s arm so she didn’t tumble back onto the floor. After she stumbled and complained for about three minutes as they made their way down the stairs of their apartment building, Daryl quietly offered to carry her heels until they made it to the Governor’s place because he was already tired of hearing her complain. She gladly said yes, and she felt like the cooling asphalt on the bottom of her feet calmed her down as they made their way across town. 

Daryl called her pretty. Not just pretty, _ really _ pretty. 

Beth locked those feelings in the back of her head for later analysis, the idea that Daryl actually said it out loud, to her face - God, she sounded like a middle schooler. But the fact that Daryl said it to her face, something so open and strange for his character, needed to be thought about in-depth another time. 

Before she could think about it more, the door in front of them swung open and Phillip Blake stood before them - a smile on his face. It sent chills down Beth’s spine. 

Why did this man freak her out so much, make her so uncomfortable in her own skin? She had no proof of these weird things Merle had told her, right? So why did she feel like she couldn’t trust Phillip Blake? He had made sure this town had run smoothly for the hundred people in it, giving them as normal as a life as he possibly could with the resources, so why couldn’t Beth shake that feeling? Perhaps it was just remnants of her new distrustful nature. 

“There you two are! Welcome, come on in,” He told them, opening up the door to allow them to follow in after him. Beth tried not to obviously peer around his apartment, but it was hard not to. It was decorated like you’d assume a man like Phillip Blake would decorate his home, modern and cold, though there were a few touches that must have been there before he got here. Beth wondered what was behind the two closed doors to her right. 

The apartment was much bigger than theirs, too big for one person, but why wouldn’t the man in charge choose the biggest apartment for himself? 

Beth and Daryl stood before the door awkwardly, waiting for him to say something first or show them where to sit. The couch to her left looked so uncomfortable she wasn’t sure if she even wanted to sit. She really wished chatty Merle was here to fill the gaps, they were both too awkward to say much else besides polite small talk. 

“I was really sorry to hear Merle couldn't attend, I know he’s been swamped lately,” The Governor offered, obviously trying to be polite, and both Beth and Daryl nodded. 

“He sends his regards,” Beth told him, plastering a fake smile on her face that she hoped was thankful and polite, trying to ignore the way the man’s eyes trailed down her legs. She scooted closer to Daryl’s side, wanting to hold onto his arm like she had outside but refraining. 

The Governor suddenly clapped his hands together and Beth flinched as he reached out to pat Daryl roughly on the shoulder. She didn’t get to see his face, but she was sure there was unbridled disgust there if she had. He didn’t like to be touched by others, she knew. Was she one of the only ones who was allowed to? What did that mean, that Daryl trusted her more than Merle, even? 

_ Not the time, Beth.  _

“The younger brother of Merle Dixon, I’ve heard a lot about you,” He told Daryl, guiding him towards the kitchen table in the center of the apartment, “would you like a drink? Both of you?” 

Beth followed his pointed finger and saw the liquor cabinet stocked with God only knew how much. Well, she now knew how the Governor took the edge off after a long day. Was he trying to loosen them up? 

“No, thanks,” Daryl grumbled, eyeing the Governor as he pulled out the chair beside him for Beth to sit in, and Beth did everything but fall into it, quietly thanking the man as he moved to the cabinet to pour himself a drink anyway. 

“You sure? I got sixty-seven Cognac here, good stuff,” He offered, pouring himself what Beth would consider a heavy pour. 

“Don’t drink,” Daryl told him and Beth nodded in agreement, too uncomfortable to add much else to the conversation. They waited for him to fix his drink and both watched as he collapsed into the chair in front of them with an air of grace and arrogance that suddenly reminded Beth of Shane. 

“I’ve heard a lot about you, Daryl, you’re brother really cares about you,” He laughed, as if the idea of Merle Dixon loving his sibling was foreign and hilarious, and then shifted his gaze to Beth, “I haven’t, however, heard much about your little wife, here,” 

Beth’s heart felt like it collapsed in on itself and her palms became sweaty on her lap. She had forgotten about that little lie, and she had forgotten to inform Daryl that they were married in the eyes of the upper levels of Woodbury. This would be  _ great.  _

Beth’s eyes quickly flicked to Daryl’s and he looked frozen in place, his eyebrows scrunched together in confusion, he looked at Beth for answers and she shook her head minutely. 

“Yeah, my wife,” Daryl said, dazed, but nodded his head in silent agreement, he would play along, thank God. Dinner would be awkward if five minutes in the Governor knew they lied to them outright. 

“You sure caught a good one, Dixon, those Southern belles always make the best wives,” 

_ Gross.  _

“How long have y’all been married?” He continued, and Beth watched as the amber liquid swirled around in his glass, sloshing up the sides. 

“Married? Um…” Daryl’s eyes widened, obviously not prepared for such a factual question, Beth rushed to help. 

“We got married a few months before everything happened,” She explained, hoping that was enough. She didn’t have enough functioning brain cells to do simple math right now, not with how consistently the Governor was sloshing his whiskey around the glass. 

“Hope you two got to go on a honeymoon before everything went to hell,” 

“We sure did,” Daryl choked and the Governor threw his head back and laughed, and Daryl took that opportunity to send her a look that screamed  _ we’re talking about this later.  _ Beth tried to keep her eyes on her lap.

The kitchen door flung open ungracefully, the doorknob barely missing the wall - Beth and Andrea made immediate eye contact. 

She carried a rather large plate of food, what looked like roast and vegetables, which she carefully sat in the middle of the four place settings. Beth hadn’t noticed the extra one until that moment. 

Beth watched as Andrea’s eyes shifted to Daryl, who she hadn’t seen since the farm fell, and waited to see how Andrea would react. Was her little game still happening? Pretending that she didn’t know either of them? 

“I’m Andrea, it’s nice to meet you,” She smiled, but it looked fake, even to Beth. 

Daryl merely nodded, watching as the Governor began serving everyone with the spoon that had been placed in the pan. Andrea had caused the tension in the room to skyrocket out of control, and Beth wondered how the man hadn’t noticed that his two guests and his girlfriend were extremely uncomfortable. 

Andrea pulled out the chair in front of Beth, settling down with a sigh, adjusting her place settings. They were perfect, but she obviously needed something to occupy her hands. 

“Beautiful dress,” Andrea told her, and Beth tried to offer her a small smile, but it probably came out as more of a grimace. 

“Thank you,” 

Andrea threw a whole new deck of cards onto the table. But, Beth was sure of one thing, she needed to talk to her. Alone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So how are you two enjoying it here?” 

Beth and Daryl had barely touched their food and she wondered if they appeared rude, but for some reason, she couldn’t bring herself to fork it into her mouth. 

“It’s been great,” Beth told him, not necessarily a lie. He seemed satisfied with her answer.

“You work at the school, correct?” 

“Yes, sir,” 

“Oh, you don’t have to sir me, Phillip will be fine,” He said and  Beth smiled, but didn’t correct herself, Daryl tensed beside her. 

“Daryl, how’s work been at the wall? I’ve heard good things about you," Andrea asked and it launched the Governor into a tirade of how well he had heard Daryl had been doing, almost like a father talking about a toddler. Daryl never got to answer Andrea's question.    


She could hear the Governor saying something about moving Daryl into one of the scavenging teams soon, but her vision had tunneled on the wall to the left of the table, covered in mounted weapons - almost like trophies. A few pistols hung there, an occasional hunting knife, but her bow was in the middle, perfectly placed like a dead deer’s head over a hunter’s fireplace. 

Beth felt the pit in her stomach returning, because why would her bow be in the Governor’s apartment? Were there extra weapons here for safekeeping? Or was it here as a trophy of some sort, like a twisted relic? 

Beth caught the tail end of Andrea giving her a strange look, obviously curious as to why she was so fixated on a random bow on the wall. Did Andrea not know it was hers? 

She felt a kick to her ankle and she held in a curse, and when she swung her head around to glare at Daryl for hitting her he looked at her pleadingly. 

“What? I’m sorry, I didn’t hear the question?” Beth asked and the Governor’s eyes flicked over to where Beth had been looking and she swore she saw a happy glint in his eyes. 

“I asked, how did you two meet?” 

“Oh, um….” Beth’s mind wondered for a plausible answer, school? No, they wouldn’t have been in school at the same time. Church? God, no.  _ Her dad!  _

“My father’s vet practice, we both worked there sometimes,” 

That seemed like a good enough answer because the man nodded. Beth sighed and Daryl seemed to relax a bit next to her. 

“I’m sure that was a lot of fun to grow up around,” Andrea offered, shifting in her seat. Her plate was clean, a stark contrast to Beth’s nearly full plate. 

“Tons,” 

The table fell into an awkward silence, the space only filled by the sound of the Governor still eating and drinking. Daryl, Beth, and Andrea all eyed one another warily, waiting for the other to speak. 

Andrea stood up suddenly, her chair squeaking, and she looked at Beth piercingly as she said, “Would you like to help me prepare dessert?” 

Beth turned to look at Daryl, worried about leaving him alone, but he nodded. Beth stood and adjusted her dress, eyeing her bow as she walked past it, itching to reach out and take it from its spot. Looks like Beth didn’t need to figure out a way to speak to Andrea alone. 

When she stepped into the kitchen, making sure to close the door behind her, Andrea was already standing at the counter mixing something in a bowl. Beth stood a few feet behind her awkwardly, unsure of what to do. 

“Married to Dixon, huh?” Andrea handed her two potholders and pointed to the oven, where something was obviously done cooking, and Beth moved to do what she had been asked, removing what looked like peach cobbler from the oven. 

“Merle came up with the idea,” She told her, tossing the mitts down onto the counter next to the pan and eyeing the woman’s back. 

She seemed to think about what Beth had said carefully, but the whisk in her hand moved a bit too fast to seem calm. 

“Why are you pretending like you don’t know us?” Beth wondered, desperately wanting an answer to the question that had been plaguing her for weeks. Andrea and the Governor seemed pretty cozy, so why would Andrea pretend like she hadn’t met Daryl and Beth before unless she was afraid of how the man would react? 

“Oh, so you can play but I can’t?” 

“I’m not the one who shot someone in the head by mistake and told a teenage girl to just end it, or is that slipping your mind too?” 

“I was trying to help you!” Andrea shouted, and they both froze, waiting for noise from outside the door, but nothing came. Andrea spun back around to her bowl and started to whisk again. 

“By giving me a kitchen knife?” 

“Be quiet,” Andrea whispered and Beth withheld from telling her that  _ she _ was the one being loud. Andrea didn’t seem above slapping someone though, so she kept her mouth shut. 

“Why are you protecting yourself?” Beth questioned, moving to stand beside Andrea, insistent. The woman tensed up and Beth knew her question had hit a nerve. 

“I’m trying to protect you!” The woman said, throwing the whisk into the sink and sighing, putting her head in her hands. 

Beth recoiled at that, Andrea didn’t owe her anything, so why would she risk herself for Beth’s safety? They didn’t even like each other, for crying out loud! 

“Why?” 

“Merle Dixon isn’t the only one who knows what goes on here, besides, you remind me of someone I used to know,” Andrea sighed, and her eyes looked far away for a moment before they snapped back into their usual steeliness, “I don’t want them to get hurt again,” 

“And would the Governor hurt me?”

“Not directly,” 

The two women fell into a silence, not necessarily uncomfortable, but a tense sort of silence that kept you on edge. 

“Don’t go to the monthly barbeques, okay?” Andrea said suddenly and Beth nodded. There was one in two days, Melody had asked Beth and Daryl to take her. How dangerous could a barbecue be? 

“Do you love him?” Beth shifted, suddenly wondering if Andrea had been roped into this like Beth would have been if it weren’t for Merle’s quick thinking and Daryl. Was she doing this willingly? No, she was strong, Andrea wouldn’t let that happen if she had a say. 

She laughed and turned to meet Beth’s eyes, “I could ask the same thing to you,” 

Beth felt her face scrunch in confusion, because there was no reason why Andrea would think she was in love with Daryl, they had merely been playing a game to trick the Governor. 

Andrea seemed to catch on to her confusion and rolled her eyes and Beth suddenly understood why her mother became so annoyed when one of her children rolled them at her - it made Beth want to smack Andrea across the face. 

“Most pretty young girls wouldn’t want to willingly attach themselves to a Dixon unless they cared for them,” She explained. 

“They’re good men, they’ve only tried to protect me,” Beth argued, she wasn’t going to let the woman stand there and talk shit about two of the only honest people she had met, who had only worked to protect her since she met them. 

“Oh no, honey, they’re Dixon’s, they’re just assholes,” 

“To you,” Beth said. 

Andrea rolled her eyes again, slapping the whip cream she had been whisking onto the cobbler and moving to grab fresh plates and silverware. 

“Listen to me, okay? Woodbury is perfectly safe if you don’t stick your pretty little head where it doesn’t belong. Work, socialize, make Dixon fall in love with you, whatever you want to do, Beth. Just stay out of it.” 

“Will he let us leave?” Beth asked suddenly, thinking to their unpacked backpacks leaning by the front door - never unpacked. Beth remembered Rose talking about a woman leaving a few weeks back, would the Governor do the same with them? 

“Why would you want to leave?” Andrea hissed like it was the most horrible idea in the world to her.

Beth shrugged, not wanting to give an answer. 

“You have walls, you have food, what more could you ask for, Beth?” 

“Is that you or the Governor talking?” 

“You cause trouble, you get kicked out, okay? I know. Even if I don’t particularly like you two, I don’t want you dead.” 

_ Gee, thanks _

“Now grab the goddamn cobbler and smile,” 

Beth swiped the dish from the counter, careful to keep her hands on the silicone holders that protected her from the heat. She followed after Andrea silently, not smiling. 

“Have a good chat?” The Governor asked and Andrea smiled.

“Yes, honey,” 

Andrea was playing a game too, she realized, hers was just much more dangerous. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Governor and Andrea stood before them at the door, and Beth was briefly reminded of when her mother and father would have someone from church over for dinner, when they would stand by the door and have small talk, waiting for the other party to leave.

It was weirdly domestic, standing next to Daryl holding a tubberware of their unfinished peach cobbler as the two men (mostly the Governor) spoke about moving Daryl onto the scavenging team sometime soon. 

Their conversation tapered off and Beth stepped in, itching to get back home into their own apartment without Andrea and the Governor’s eyes watching their every move. 

She tried to remember what her parents’ guests had done in this situation, deciding on, “We should really get going, thank you for having us,” 

The Governor nodded and moved to open the door for them, waving his hand in a dismissive manner, “You two should come over for brunch this weekend, we’re making French toast, I promised Andrea I would make it,” 

They both nodded politely, silently agreeing (though that would never happen) and shuffled out of the door, quickly saying their goodnights. 

They could only breathe when they made it to the end of the hall, both stopping to let out a few breaths before they made their way down the steps. Daryl seemed to recover quickly, gesturing for Beth to hand over her shoes, but Beth’s mind focused too closely on what the Governor had said - was the French toast thing just a coincidence? It seemed eerily similar to what Beth had promised Daryl - but she was just overthinking it. 

She suddenly wished she had taken the Governor up on that drink. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Beth could feel Daryl’s presence at the counter behind her and she tried to focus on the words of  _ To Kill A Mockingbird _ , wanting to reread it after Daryl had read her a few chapters a few weeks back. She was waiting for Daryl to crack, and if his hand tapping on the counter meant anything, it was soon. 

She heard him sigh and walk over to stand next to her chair and Beth held her breath. 

“So, when were you and Merle going to tell me we apparently got fucking hitched? Do we have an anniversary I should get a gift for? Maybe some flowers?” 

“Daryl,” Beth interrupted, wanting to stop him before he got too far into it, but he dismissed her with a roll of his eyes. 

“No, no, really, all I ask is that you tell me the next time I’m gonna get fucked over by one of your little inside jokes, ‘kay? Should I be like the kid and call you Mrs. Dixon now?” 

Beth slung her head back and stared at the ceiling, and although his words hurt just a bit, it wasn’t the time for her silly emotions right now. 

_ “Daryl, shut up!”  _

_ _ He recoiled, shocked at her tone and volume, but she watched as he clenched his jaw and collapsed onto the couch in front of her, waiting. 

“I’m sorry,” She said and he scoffed, but she continued, “Merle said all of that to protect me, apparently, the Governor likes to give single girls out to his handymen,” 

“Oh,” Daryl sighed and he looked apologetic, but Beth knew if something like that was sprung on her she would be confused and angry too. 

“I’m sorry if it made you uncomfortable,” 

“I’m not - it didn’t make me uncomfortable, just weird to wake up single and go to dinner married.” He joked, shifting awkwardly in his seat and Beth laughed. 

“Thank you for playing along,” 

“If it keeps you safe I will, you know that,” He told her and she nodded, because she did, and started flicking through the pages of her book absentmindedly while he stood back up and headed towards the kitchen. 

He seemed to find something he was unhappy with because he sighed, saying, “What did I tell you about leavin’ your dishes on the counter?” 

“Sorry, mom,” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Dance with me?” 

“I don’t dance, Greene,” 

The Elvis Presley record was playing softly in the background, Beth had turned it on loud enough so that she could hear it while she got ready for bed, but she got sidetracked by the idea of getting Daryl to dance with her. 

“Please?” She begged 

Daryl looked like he was about to crack under her gaze for a split second before he turned back around to the sink and shook his head. 

“I don’t know how,”

“I don’t either,” She lied and he quietly laughed at her attempt to persuade him, his shoulders shaking as he mumbled about nine years of ballet and liars. The room was quiet for a while, just the occasional clink of a dish as Daryl cleaned and Gus’ snores from the couch. 

Beth was about to go wash her face and get ready for bed when he threw the dish towel down on the counter and stood before her, eyes expectant. 

“Well?” He questioned, and she was shocked he had actually agreed for a brief moment before she recovered, snatching his hand before he could pull it back and tugging him towards the center of the living room. She had only danced with her mother a few times at a mother-daughter event they held every year at church, standing on her feet as they swung around to gospel music in the pretty dresses Annette had sewn for both of them a few weeks prior. She remembered her mother giggling and whispering to Beth that they could have done the same thing in their pajamas in the living room. 

Beth placed her hands up as high as she could reach on his shoulders, not quite able to reach all the way around his neck. His curls were wet from the shower and she desperately wanted to run her hands through them to watch them spring back into their original shape. 

“I don’t think this is dancin’, Beth” Daryl sighed, adjusting his hands so they were a bit higher on her lower back. She noticed that he made sure not to touch her skin directly whenever her shirt rode up a bit. 

They weren’t really dancing, more like swaying to the music, but it was enough. He reached up to grab one of her hands from his shoulder and spun her around quickly and she fell back into his chest with a happy laugh. 

“I thought you didn’t know how to dance?” She questioned, but she knew she was just filling the silence now. There was a tense kind of feeling between them that she couldn’t place and she didn’t want to simmer in it in silence. 

“It seems easy ‘nough,” 

“Let me spin you now,” She said, pushing him away enough to spin, Gus watched peacefully from the sofa. 

“No way,” He grumbled but she had already slung him away from her body and tugged him around to spin, and when he had to crouch down with a sigh to pass under her hand she couldn’t help but laugh again. 

She felt so happy that she could burst, even if they had just had the most awkward night of their lives with an egotistical madman, this made up for it. She had finally grown comfortable with the idea that she  _ loved  _ Daryl, whether she would act on her feelings was a different story, but she could look at him and know that they were best friends, and that was enough for her. 

“I’ve never danced with a man before,” She admitted, and although they hadn’t played their game of I Never in a long time, this never felt appropriate for the situation. She had never slow danced with her father, surprisingly. 

“No point for you, I went to a few gay bars when I was younger,” Daryl whispered back, messing with her braid with his free hand, seemingly trying to tug the bottom hair tie free. When she met his eyes in question, both at the gay bar thing and trying to pull her hair down, he quietly laughed. Those quiet laughs had always been her favorite. 

“I like it when you wear your hair down,” He explained, so quiet that she barely caught it over the music. When the hair tie finally fell into his hand, he dropped it into her open palm and watched as she tugged her fingers through the French braid so her hair would fall around her shoulders. When she finally returned her hand to his shoulder, he reached out and ruffled her hair and she scrunched her nose up in annoyance. 

They both laughed when she opened her eyes and fell into a comfortable silence, and Beth could finally focus on the feeling of Daryl’s breath on the shell of her ear and the weight of his hands on her back - but she wanted to look at him, really badly. 

She turned her head to look at him, a small smile on her face as she reached up to push a stray curl out of his eyes, still damp from his shower. She noticed happily that there was a small ring of brown in his eyes, right around his pupil. 

Up this close, she could see the cautiousness and fear that hid in Daryl’s eyes, seemingly frozen, and she wondered if the same could be said about her. 

When she ran her hand down the side of his neck, he leaned down and she followed, rising on her tiptoes to meet him, but then the gunfire started. 


	17. Attack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! I hope all of you enjoy this chapter, loads more to come! 
> 
> Wishing you all health and happiness, 
> 
> bee

_ Up this close, she could see the cautiousness and fear that hid in Daryl’s eyes, seemingly frozen, and she wondered if the same could be said about her. _

_ When she ran her hand down the side of his neck, he leaned down and she followed, rising on her tiptoes to meet him, but then the gunfire started. _

The gunfire echoed hauntingly through their apartment, causing the windows to shake in their frames and Beth’s heart to feel as if it was vibrating in her chest. They separated as if they had been burned, and Beth mourned the loss of his hands on her back and the warmth of having him so close to her. 

They both frantically looked from the window to each other, neither verbalizing the questions blazing in their eyes. The gunfire stopped as quick as it came, the silence hauntingly quiet, and Beth briefly wondered if a small herd got too close to the wall and they didn’t have enough arrows - or if some rookie got nervous and fired at the walkers below without thinking. The Elvis record played softly in the background, occasionally skipping. 

She had almost made it to the window to peek out of the curtains down on the main street when the glass shattered on her bare feet, scattering across the living room floor as what Beth assumed was a bullet found a home in their wall. Gus let out a string of nasty barks that caused Beth to jump, nearly stepping on a large shard of glass. 

She caught herself before she stepped on it, but nearly lost her footing when another bullet went through the broken window, letting out a noise that sounded suspiciously like a scream in shock, but before she could wonder if she had somehow been accidentally shot through her living room window (because what a way to die) she felt rough hands loop under her arms and yank her into the kitchen, away from the windows. 

_ “Careful!” _Daryl hissed, and as Beth uncovered her eyes she noticed that he had placed himself between her and the window. His hands were on her shoulders, heavy and constant. It felt weird to touch him now, like a line had been crossed that she couldn’t step back over. Did she even want to step back over it, if she could? 

“Did you step on any glass?” He asked and she shook her head because he had yanked her away before she could accidentally set her foot down in the shards. She looked down at the floor, covered in glass, barely registering the rapid-fire that had resumed outside. 

He let go of her shoulders soon afterward, moving away from her and towards the window, keeping himself against the wall as he peered through the curtains. Beth crossed her arms over her chest, trying to calm the rapid beating of her heart.

“What do you see?” She questioned, carefully placing her feet in places where she couldn’t see any glass, hopping around until she stood behind him, trying desperately to peer over his shoulder.

She couldn’t see anything, not over his shoulder, but she could definitely hear the near-constant gunfire and shouting coming through the broken window, jarring and clear. 

“They’re shooting at somebody,” He told her and she scrunched her face up, confused. Why would they be shooting at something inside of the walls? From what Beth could see over his shoulder the wall was fine, had someone gotten in? 

He spun around to face her, and if he could somehow look exasperated at her moving back into the glass he did so, holding his hand out to help her as he quickly moved back towards the kitchen. Gus whined at their feet, his tail tucked between his legs, and Beth leaned down to run her hands in between his ears, grabbing onto his shoulders to keep him from wandering in front of the window and shot. 

She watched as Daryl scrambled around the kitchen, opening drawers and cabinets in search of something - what, Beth didn’t know. Another bullet hit the side of their building, the dull _ thud _of it hitting causing her heart to continue to race. Had it only been just a few hours ago that they had been awkwardly making small talk over a dinner table? 

Daryl suddenly stopped in the kitchen, his boots squeaking on the fake wood, and she watched as his eye caught the knife block, choosing the largest knife out of the bunch, the _ swish _of the knife filling the room as he quickly made his way through the living room, disappearing into the bedroom. She jumped up to follow him, whispering for Gus to stay in the kitchen. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” She shouted because she had the sneaking suspicion that Daryl was about to do something stupid. What were they supposed to do? Go down there and join in? His bow was sitting at a weapons tent and hers was on an egotistical madman’s living room wall - the gun they had swiped from that gas station lost in the chaos of coming to Woodbury, taken and never seen again. She would rather be selfish and alive in their apartment than brave and dead on the streets of Woodbury, no matter what was going on. Daryl had a good streak in him, she knew, that savior complex - but Beth didn’t, and she knew that she had enough for the both of them. 

They had become comfortable in the peace that was Woodbury, falling into line and enjoying the semblance of normalcy that the fake town gave off - but she knew that there was something unsettling about the whole thing, about the man that ran everything. Both of them had heard about it, hell, had seen it, and knew that it was only a matter of time before Woodbury blew up into chaos. It seemed they had been correct in their assumption. Peace only lasted for so long now, before the world caught up.

She knew that he would want to go out and help, be in the thick of things and blindly risk himself for others - because that was just how Daryl was. She knew he was thinking of Merle and Melody, who he had come to adore, out in the middle of all of this. Her chest ached and her throat closed at the thought of Melody getting hurt, or even Merle, but she knew that Rose would give her life for Melody’s and Merle could take care of himself - she knew that they would be alright in the end. 

She was being selfish, wanting to keep him tethered here when he was more capable than half of the men outside, but she didn’t care. 

She had finally realized as Daryl looked at her while dancing, a small smile on his face, that the bumpy feeling in her chest whenever she looked at him and the heat in her throat when he rubbed circles on her lower back and shoulders to help her fall asleep; the feeling of giddiness whenever she got him to smile or laugh at a stupid joke she had made, or the burn in her stomach whenever she woke up to his legs and arms _ everywhere _but his side of the bed, oftentimes wrapped around her, was her beginning to love him. 

She loved Daryl Dixon - not in the way she loved her family, that was different, that was familiar and warm, like the smell of rain or the sound of her mother’s voice. Not like Jimmy, if she had ever loved him, that was a naive and comforting kind of love. How she felt for Daryl felt paralyzing; burning and possessive. It made her feel dizzy and needy - the way she wanted to grab onto his hand and never let him leave, to keep him dancing and smiling with her all of the time, the way she wanted his weight to settle on top of her and cage her in, her fingernails marking his back because he was _ hers _. 

The dizzying wave of emotions she felt for him made her want to cry because Daryl was her best friend in the entire world, the person she knew that she could trust with _ everything _. It was stupid to think you could find the person that was made for you in the apocalypse, that was the best for you, but Beth had come pretty damn close.

Even if he never returned her feelings, if he was never okay enough to love someone back, she would be there for him, because he was it for Beth. Now, looking back, she knew it was always there, these feelings and thoughts they had of one another, the quick glances and smiles, the sense of having a secret just between them, something they were supposed to protect, it was just never spoken. 

She heard a few things fall over in the bathroom and a colorful string of curses that brought Beth back to the present before Daryl quickly appeared in front of her across the living room. She prepared to beg and yell, to plead with him to stay in the apartment because she couldn’t stand the thought of him being outside in the middle of it all - but her thoughts abruptly stopped when she saw that he had both of their backpacks, swinging at his sides. 

He tossed her the blue one that she usually carried. Beth held it out in shock, the weight of it familiar, and she could feel the leftover words of_ please _ and _ don’t _still on her tongue, but she gripped the fabric like her life depended on it. 

“We’re leaving.” He told her. 

Beth reeled, because they had _ talked _ about this, whispering when they were going to leave and how they were going to do it - sneaking out and dragging Merle along with them, maybe even convincing Rose and Melody to go. But something always stopped them from sharing their plans, maybe because they both knew they were better alone than surrounded by other people, but now? He wanted to leave while someone was shooting at them? _ Really? _

“What? Now?” 

Daryl nodded, “My bow is at the North wall,” Beth reeled again because the North wall was the wall that was being shot at, but Daryl held his hands out for her to let him continue, “but the tent is at the edge, there is a gap a few hundred feet down that leads right into the woods, we’ll get out when no one is looking,” he paused, shifting on his feet, “we’ll find you a new bow, promise,” 

She felt herself nod because she knew her bow was a goner - displayed like a trophy on the walls of the Governor- and she wondered if the other weapons had belonged to women as well. Like some kind of twisted, misogynistic display case to make him feel as though he was a man. 

“What about Merle?” She whispered, and she watched him look down at his boots and swallowed. She suspected he was taking the idea of leaving his older brother behind worse than he let on, especially after he had just gotten him back after a year of thinking he was dead. 

“He’s smart, if he wants to come after us he’s welcome to, but we’re getting out,” 

She nodded, gripping the strap of her backpack tighter. It had everything in it, the clothes she wore on the road and extra socks, some pain medicine and an inhaler (because Daryl had let it slip that he had really bad asthma as a kid that sometimes acted up, so she swiped one from a pharmacy when he wasn’t looking, just in case), a lighter, and the picture from the farmhouse, safely tucked in the front pocket with some pads and tampons that she hadn’t had to use in months. Vitamin deficiencies and an irregular food schedule would do that, she assumed. 

She bent down to stuff Gus’ teddy bear into the main compartment, peering around to make sure there wasn’t anything else she wanted to take. There were extra clothes in the closet that Rose had given her, but she didn’t want to go traipsing around the woods in cut-off shorts and glittery tank tops. 

She finally settled on the butcher knife from the block, sliding it into the pocket on the side of her backpack. 

She looked at Daryl, who had been quietly watching her as she pulled the rope they sometimes used as a leash for Gus out of one of the kitchen drawers, waiting for him to say something and move towards the door to leave, but it never came. 

The flashing light from the gunfire caused the apartment to look ghostly, casting their shadows onto the walls that had been decorated by someone probably long dead. 

“Beth?” He whispered and she peered up at his face, her mind racing, would he want to talk about what almost happened between them? That they _ almost _ kissed? She didn’t know if she could take it right now. 

“Yeah?” 

“How about some boots?” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When they had finally made it down the three flights of stairs into the lobby of their apartment building, coming across no one in the eerily quiet halls, the front doors had been shattered and the sounds of gunfire and screams echoed into the building. 

Gus panted heavily next to her, loyally staying at her side while he was attached to his leash. She really didn’t want to take him out into the open fire, but they didn’t really have a choice at this point.

“You stay behind me, do you understand?” Daryl whispered and she nodded, shuffling behind him, “We’re going to go left when we get outside, stay close to the buildings.” 

When they stepped out onto the concrete outside, Beth’s heart started to race and she grabbed onto Daryl’s elbow without thinking - because she couldn’t defend herself against a shotgun with a butcher knife, and who wouldn’t be scared walking into a line of gunshots? 

Daryl took notice, peering down at her hand, but when he looked back up to her face she could see _ we’re going to be fine _ displayed in his eyes, and although she wanted it to, it didn’t make her feel any better. 

So, they slowly weaved through the buildings, coming closer and closer to the wall with each step. She still couldn’t see it, but she knew that they were close. The gunfire becoming increasingly louder the further they went was unsettling, but she was proud of Gus for not barking, though he was shaking like a leaf, pressed against her leg. 

A few minutes later, the wall came into view, a hundred yards ahead, and she nearly let out a sigh of relief - she could just make out the tip of the weapons tent over the bushes. All they had to do was grab Daryl’s bow, maybe swipe a few more weapons, and then they were gone. 

She would never get to say goodbye to Rose and Melody, she realized, and she tried to swallow the lump in her throat that came up. This wasn’t the time to cry, she knew, but it hurt to think that she wouldn’t be able to say goodbye to the two of them, forever wondering if they were okay. 

She suddenly ran into the back of Daryl, who had stopped, and when she peered around him she saw a man staring at them, covered in dirt and sweat, carrying a nasty looking gun and an ax. His eyes slid down to the knife in Daryl’s hand, his fingers gripping the handle of the ax tighter. 

From Daryl’s reaction, she assumed he wasn’t a friendly. 

Neither of them moved, but the sound of something hitting the concrete between them, something heavy and metal, caused the man to look away right before the smoke bomb went off. 

The smoke spread quickly, almost_ too _ quick, causing Beth to cough and Gus to let out a string of barks and growls. She had let go of Daryl’s arm in shock, and when she looked up she couldn’t make him out through the fog - she looked down at the rope still in her hands and the empty loop at the end of it, Gus had somehow gotten out of his makeshift collar. 

Daryl’s name was almost out of her mouth when the gunfire started and she dropped to the ground, covering her head instinctually as the bullets flew over her back. She yelled for Daryl, her eyes watering from the smoke that was finally clearing up a little. He couldn’t have gotten _ that _ far. _ Not unless he was shot. Oh, God, what if he got shot? _

_ “Daryl!” _ She screamed, pushing up on her elbows so she could sit on her knees and look through the fog, the bullets stopping long enough that she could finally stand up to find Daryl and her dog. Nothing was easy, was it? 

“Beth!” Daryl shouted, somewhere to her right, and she spun around in what she assumed was that direction, the fog surrounding her like a heavy blanket. She remembered playing with the smaller versions of these during the Fourth of July, fascinated by the pretty multi-colored fog - she assumed that these must have been military-grade. Her pretty pink smoke bombs never did this, that was for sure. 

She heard a punch, skin hitting skin, and a bark from Gus, then some more scuffling. 

When the fog cleared enough to see two shapes about ten feet in front of her, one on the ground and one standing over the other, she didn’t breathe until she saw that Daryl was the one standing over the man with the gun and the ax, now unconscious. 

She ran to him quickly, coughing as she ran into another cloud of fog. She watched as he pulled the strap of the automatic off of the man’s shoulder, slinging it over his own. Gus was a few feet away, safely tucked under a bush. 

Daryl’s mouth opened as if he was about to say something, but multiple sets of footsteps came around the corner of a building up ahead and a man yelling another’s name sent her heart racing and for Daryl to grab onto her wrist, pulling her closer to him to harshly whisper into her ear. 

“I want you to take Gus and go to the South wall, do you understand? There is a big oak tree a hundred feet into the woods that is right across from the gap in the metal, I’ll meet you there when I get my bow,” He told her, calling for Gus and pushing the dog with his knee closer to Beth. 

She shook her head, “I’m not leaving you alone,” 

“I’ll be fine, this was a stupid idea anyway,” He said, peering down at the unconscious man with something Beth could only describe as disgust. 

“Oscar? Where are you?” A man’s voice said, somewhere behind them, and they both looked towards the voice in fear. 

The idea of leaving him alone to get his bow while she ran to safety seemed _ absurd, _but from the number of footsteps coming, she knew that he would work better alone and without a dog trailing behind him. He was good at sneaking, Beth was not. She still hadn’t gotten the hang of hand to hand combat, no matter how hard she tried, she was just too small. She knew she would only be dead weight right now. 

So, she pulled him into a hug, standing over an unconscious man four times the size of either of them and with gunfire still blasting from somewhere to their right. She dug her face into his shoulder and breathed in the smell of eucalyptus soap and wood, and he hugged her back just as hard. 

She wanted to kiss him then, to tug on his hair and pull him into her, but she felt like that was saying goodbye, which they weren’t. She would see him in an hour or two, at the oak tree.

Neither said anything when she let go, but the hand that wasn’t holding the automatic lingered on her waist for a split second. 

“You better show up.” She whispered, and he nodded. 

A man rounded the corner and Daryl shoved her the opposite direction, back the way they came. 

“Go! Don’t stop running!” 

So, she kicked Gus in the side, not too hard, only to get him to take off with her, and ran in the opposite direction of Daryl. 

Even if it felt wrong to do so. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Beth stopped behind a bush to catch her breath, forgetting how big Woodbury actually was across. She had passed their apartment building a few minutes ago, just as quiet as it had been when they left it. All of the lights were off. 

Beth tucked her head in between her knees, ignoring Gus’ wet nose on her shoulder while trying to resist the idea of just running back to Daryl. 

It was an absolute shit idea, splitting up, and she should have called him out on it when she had the chance. They should have just made a break for the exit and would have been better off, but Daryl had a savior complex, and Beth’s brain had been too scrambled to fight back. 

She could only hope he would meet her at the South wall, which he was going to because Daryl never broke promises. He always did what he said he would. But she couldn’t stop the voice in the back of her head wondering what would happen if he didn’t show up. What would she do? Would she slink back into Woodbury like nothing had happened? She was strong now, but she didn’t know if she could make it out in the woods alone without her bow. 

She took a deep breath in, her lungs burning, and stood up and took off in the direction of the wall - or, at least, she tried, she hit a warm body straight on before she could get very far. 

She landed hard on her back, the impact knocking the wind out of her and causing her ribs to ache something horrible, and when she sat up in a daze she caught the sight of another woman sprawled on the ground, crawling back onto her feet. 

They locked eyes, and a flash of familiarity shot through Beth as she looked at the dreadlocks and dark skin, but she couldn’t exactly place where she had seen her. 

Before Beth could stand up, a nasty looking sword was pointed at her throat, pushing into the skin there. Gus let out a low growl from behind her, the fur on his shoulders standing up, and the woman’s eyes flicked from the dog to Beth. 

Beth looked at her surroundings, trying to see if there was some way out of this. She couldn’t exactly reach into the pocket of her backpack and pull out that steak knife, not without getting shish kabobed. There weren’t any rocks or sticks she could throw at the woman, and she was too far away for Beth to kick in the shin. She was a goner. 

She hadn’t thought about what would happen if _ she _didn’t make it to the oak tree. 

The apartment building a few yards ahead of her looked familiar, and she suddenly realized that she had been there only a few hours prior to this, eating roast and vegetables during one of the most awkward situations of Beth’s life. 

The woman followed Beth’s eyes to the apartment building, and she noticed that the woman looked desperate, her eyes flashing and her grip on the sword unsteady. 

“Are you with them?” Beth whispered, wanting to know if she was about to be killed by one of Woodbury’s own and not the enemy, because why else would this woman look familiar? 

The woman stayed silent, pushing the sword deeper into Beth’s neck. She felt something wet and hot slide down her chest. The woman had drawn blood. Beth scrambled to try and figure out where she had seen this woman before because it was starting to get on her nerves, then she remembered. The gate! 

She and Daryl had just started to settle in, and on their second or third day, a few days before they started their jobs, a woman had been kicked out. 

_ Beth stood at the barrel filled with tomatoes, flicking her eyes over to the crowd at the front gate, surrounding two women that were just too far away to see. She could only tell that one had blonde hair and the other had thick, black dreadlocks. _

_ Daryl was only a few feet behind her, trailing her like a puppy while she grocery shopped, still too uncomfortable for either of them to leave their apartment alone. _

_ “What do you think is going on?” She asked quietly, tossing two ripe tomatoes into her bag. _

_ He shrugged, but kept his eyes on the gate, watching. A woman next to her perked up at her question, scooting closer to Beth so that she could whisper. _

_ “Those two were asked to leave, or, at least one of them was. Causing all kinds of trouble,” The woman whispered, and Beth said her thanks, as the woman scurried off to be with a man she assumed, was her husband. _

_ Beth and Daryl watched as the gate opened. Only one woman went out. _

This was the woman who had been exiled from Woodbury, the talk of the town for weeks afterward she had left. She wondered why the other woman hadn’t left with her. 

The woman’s voice startled her out of her memory, deep and soft. 

“Are you?” She asked and Beth quickly shook her head, cringing when it caused the sword to dig deeper into the skin there. Beth would rather get her head cut off by this strange woman before she proclaimed her loyalty to Phillip Blake. 

“No, I just happen to live here,” She explained, slowly testing to see if the woman would let her lean on her elbows, she did. 

The woman looked suspicious, her eyes flicking from Blake’s building to Beth’s eyes. She wondered if the Governor was even in there, but of course, he would be, because the man didn’t seem like the type to actively risk his life for anyone. 

“My friend and I are trying to leave, the Governor is a madman,” Beth said and the woman’s eyes flicked to Gus, her eyebrow raised, so Beth said “the dog is not the friend,” 

The sword pulled back a bit and the crease between the woman’s eyebrows softened. 

“I’m here to kill him,” The woman whispered, quiet as a mouse. 

Beth looked her in the eyes then, a deep, deep brown, and she could see that the woman meant it. 

“Please do,” Beth whispered back, and the sword pulled away completely. 

The woman turned to leave just as Beth scrambled back onto her feet, her heart racing from almost being killed, but an idea popped into her head. A stupid idea, but it would benefit her greatly. 

“Wait!” Beth shouted, trailing after the woman and whistling for Gus to come with her. The dog followed and Beth caught up to the woman, who looked at her suspiciously, but Beth was beginning to think that was just her resting expression. 

“I have a bow in his apartment, I want it back.” 

The woman’s head turned in question, reminding Beth of a bird, but Beth continued anyway. 

“I can show you which apartment is his, you’ll be lost without it,” She said, nearly pleading because Beth would feel a lot better in the woods alone until Daryl showed up if she had her bow and not a blunt steak knife. 

Daryl telling her not to stop echoed in her head, and she felt guilt settling into her chest, but she needed her bow back. 

The woman nodded, and Beth let out a sigh of relief. She would show the woman the apartment, grab her bow, and get the hell out of there. She would leave the killing to the woman because it seemed like she _ really _ wanted it. 

Beth whispered her thanks, following behind her as they made their way around the building. The gunfire had seemingly stopped, for now, and the streets were hauntingly quiet. Beth couldn’t help the question bubbling up from her throat. 

“Are you here to just kill the Governor?” She asked, because if she was here to kill the man, why put on such a big show? It would have been better just to sneak in _ without _the rapid gunfire and smoke bombs. 

The woman looked at her like she wished she hadn’t removed her sword from Beth’s neck, but whispered back her reply. 

“A soldier took two of their people, they’re here to get them back.” 

Woodbury had hostages? Where? Beth couldn’t help but feel impressed, because the Governor really did have a veil over everyone’s faces. What else was he hiding in the dark corners of the town? She quietly noticed that the woman was limping pretty harshly, favoring her right leg. 

Beth held her questions, wanting to know if they were from the prison on the highway and why she wanted to kill the Governor so bad, because it couldn’t just be sending her way, surely? Beth felt like she was missing a large part of the puzzle, but she knew it was none of her business. She had an oak tree to get to. 

They quietly made it up the stairwell and Beth carefully opened up the familiar door leading onto the fourth floor. Had she really just been here? Dressed in heels and a pretty dress? Now she was in jeans and covered in sweat and blood, helping a woman coming to kill the man she just shared a meal with. 

Sometimes she really missed her window seat and boredom on the farm. 

They tip-toed to his apartment, and Beth stopped when she noticed something strange. The door was cracked. 

Michonne motioned for her to stop, moving to stand in front of her as she pushed the door open with the tip of her sword. Beth reached back for her steak knife, feeling entirely inadequate compared to the woman in front of her.

The apartment was empty, almost ghostly. The candles that had been lit a few hours before were burnt out and the smell of peach cobbler was gone. Once she felt that the man was nowhere within the walls of his apartment, Beth ran over to her bow, roughly pulling it off the wall and reaching down to grab the quiver of arrows leaning against the wall below it, slinging it over her back. It felt good to have it in her hands again, the weight of it sending a warm feeling through her chest. This had been a gift from Daryl, and she refused to leave it behind. 

“You don’t really strike me as a bow girl,” The woman said, her eyes flicking into the empty corners of the apartment as if the Governor was going to jump out and grab her like a boogeyman. Beth gripped the bow tighter in her hands, a small smile on her face. 

“I wasn’t, but I learned,” It came out harsher than she intended, but she was protective of the things Daryl had given her. 

Before Beth could head back towards the door, fully planning on leaving the strange, vindictive woman to her own devices, she noticed that one of the doors that Beth had wondered what was behind it was cracked, sending an eerie, green glow through the crack. They both seemed to hear the shuffling coming from the room at the same time because the woman’s sword flew up and Beth nocked an arrow into position before either of them had time to breathe. She was glad her instincts and muscle memory had pulled through. 

The woman moved towards the door and Beth followed without thinking, and when the door was kicked open, Beth noticed the small girl standing in the middle of the room first, facing them. 

She had a pink dress on, but that is all Beth could tell because she had a brown bag over her face. She didn’t seem to move at the sound of the door slamming against the wall, and when Beth trailed her eyes down the little girl’s frame she noticed the chains keeping her there, attached to her ankles. 

“Oh my God,” Beth whispered in horror, pushing past Michonne to get to the little girl and release her, because what the fuck? Who kept a child in chains in some dark, awful smelling room? 

Beth moved towards her slowly, not wanting to scare her. She heard Gus growl quietly from behind her but ignored him in favor of helping the poor girl. 

“Honey? Are you all alright? We’re not here to hurt you, I promise,” Beth whispered softly, and when she didn’t get a response from the little girl she gently grabbed her shoulders. She was cold to the touch and Beth shivered. 

She could see the woman move closer to her, the same look of concern etched on her features when the little girl released a pitiful groan. 

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Beth whispered, grabbing the edge of the bag with her fingers and tugging it over the girl’s head. 

The sight of rotting skin and a horrible screech from the girl caused Beth to fall backward into the woman’s legs with a shout, and without question, she stuck her sword through the little girl’s skull. 

Beth watched her crumple to the ground, and now that Beth looked at her hands and face, she could tell the little girl had been dead a long time. A streak of brown caught her eyes in her hands and when Beth realized a piece of hair had come off the rotting girl’s scalp into her hands, she let out a noise of disgust and shivered, throwing it as far away from her as she could. 

Before Beth could process what had just occurred, and the fact that the Governor had a _ rotting little girl _in his backroom, a shout from the door caused both of their heads to spin towards the door. 

The Governor stood there, his eyes trained on the dead girl now crumpled onto the floor, a black liquid oozing out of the hole between her eyes. 

His eyes flicked to Michonne, almost like he hadn’t noticed Beth lying on the floor, and he pointed at her, his face red with rage. 

_ “You!” _He shouted, and before Beth could move the man had launched himself at the other woman, causing her sword to clatter onto the floor. 

A feeling of protectiveness came over her then, and without thinking, Beth stood up and launched herself onto the back of the Governor. 


	18. Lost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of a filler chapter, but loads more to come, I hope you enjoy! 
> 
> xoxo - bee

_ “You!” He shouted, and before Beth could move the man had launched himself at the other woman, causing her sword to clatter onto the floor. _

_ A feeling of protectiveness came over her then, and without thinking, Beth stood up and launched herself onto the back of the Governor. _

Daryl watched Beth’s back as she ran in the opposite direction until she was just a speck in the distance. He had learned during her runs at the farmhouse that the girl was a lot faster than she knew, she would get to the South wall in no time.

He tried to ignore the gnawing feeling in his chest as he watched her disappear because he was beginning to realize that sending her way had been a fucking stupid plan. He didn’t think, he had just decided that letting her go was better than seeing her in the middle of the gunfire. He should have kept her here, hid her in a bush, or pushed her towards the crack in the wall, but he had made a split-second decision, and now he had to live with it if she didn’t make it to the tree. 

Beth was smart. She would be alright. 

It just felt really, really wrong to let her go. 

The footsteps came closer and when Daryl looked over his shoulder to check, there were only two shadows stretching across the pavement. He looked back down to his foot on the man’s throat, still unconscious and bleeding. 

The gunshots had finally stopped, and Daryl could just barely hear the shouts from the main street. He couldn't make out what was going on, and he briefly wondered how many people - if any, were dead. 

He also wondered what the fuck was going on, but something stopped him from thinking about anything further. He was too worried about sending Beth away to think about anything else. 

“Drop the gun!” Someone yelled and Daryl felt a strike of familiarity at the accent, trying to remember the last time he had heard the sheriff’s voice, or if he ever thought he would hear it again. 

Daryl dropped the gun automatically, watching as it bounced a few feet away, hoping that his gut was right and it was Rick that was pointing a gun at the middle of his shoulders. If the click of the safety meant anything, what was it with people and pointing guns at him? Did he just _look _shootable? 

Daryl spun around, his hand going for the kitchen knife he had stuffed in the back of his jeans automatically, just in case, and was met with a familiar face. The man looked older, nearly a year God knows where had obviously not been kind to him. He was covered in sweat and dirt, his python falling to his sides at the sight of the man in front of him. 

Daryl recognized Glenn a few feet behind him, mouth open and his hands fisted at his sides, gun forgotten. He looked like absolute shit, both of his eyes were swollen shut and nasty bruises, some fresh and some old, covered his face and neck. His wrists were bleeding, almost like he had been bound to something, and Daryl wondered what the fuck the kid had gotten himself into.

“Daryl?” Rick whispered, and he felt relief at the recognition. Yes, it was stupid to think they wouldn’t recognize him, but he was clean and dressed in jeans and a t-shirt - and if he were being honest, looked totally different than what he looked like on the farm. _ I don’t look like backwoods trash _, he thought bitterly.

“You’re alive!” Glenn shouted, and both Rick and Daryl shushed him, their eyes flicking towards the main road just barely visible through the crack between the apartment buildings. The gunfire had stopped. 

“You’re standing on one of our men,” Rick said, gesturing to the man beneath Daryl’s feet with his gun. Daryl slowly stepped off of the guy’s throat, watching his chest to make sure he hadn’t accidentally killed him because what a way to reunite with Rick, by killing one of his men - but the slow rise and fall of his chest gave it away quickly. 

“He shot at us,” Daryl explained and he felt an itch at the back of his skull, wanting to go and find Beth and drag her back. And Gus, ‘cause even if he was a brat most days, he was a good dog. 

A million questions blazed through Daryl’s mind, wondering_ why _ Rick and Glenn were here, attacking Woodbury. Were they the group occupying the prison? The Governor hadn’t moved in on them yet, not even initiating any contact if Daryl had heard the gossip correctly, had Rick decided to attack without warning, without reason? That didn’t seem like him. 

If Rick and Glenn had gotten out of that shitshow they called a farm, who else had? Rick had gone to find Shane and Carl after scrambling around in the woods looking for Randall - who Daryl had completely forgotten about until that moment. How had Rick dealt with Shane obviously killing Randall? 

_ Had the Greene’s gotten out? Or was Beth the only one left? _

“Us?” Rick questioned, grabbing his belt in a way that Daryl had always hated, tilting his head. He wondered if it was a leftover habit from the police force. It always made Daryl want to punch him. 

“Beth is with me,” Daryl whispered, leaving out the part that he had sent her away for some dumbass reason, and the flash of surprise in Rick’s eyes caused anger to flare up in Daryl’s chest. He wondered if it was the fact that she was in Woodbury with Daryl or if it was because he didn’t think she had made it out. 

Someone else rounded the corner, covered in dirt and blood. She was skinnier than Daryl remembered and looked a little worse for wear, but when Daryl looked in Maggie Greene’s face he couldn’t stop himself from picking out the similarities to her younger sister. 

“Beth’s alive?” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Beth heard the _ thud _ of the woman’s head hitting the floor as the Governor laid her out, trying desperately to swing Beth off. She wrapped her legs around his chest, her arms around his throat, and she leaned back, trying to get him off of the woman beneath him. 

It worked, but a little too well, because he wobbled backward and they both fell into the large sheet-covered thing that had been against one of the walls. Beth assumed it had been a bookcase, but when she heard glass shattering and felt _ wet_, she guessed that she had assumed wrong. 

The sheet had been tugged off of whatever it was and fell around Beth, covering her face and cutting off her vision, she was soaked in water, and it smelt horrible. When she finally tugged the sheet off of her shoulders and looked around, a head lay right next to her own, obviously dead and chomping it’s rotten teeth, staring right at her. 

She screamed and scrambled away from it, ignoring the awful pain of glass embedding itself into her palms in favor of getting the hell away from it. Her hand landed on something that mushed beneath her weight, wet and cold, and when she looked down, her hand was smushing into the back of another walker head, into its brain.

She screamed again, barely registering the sound of a struggle and a loud crash, but didn’t have time to look to see what it was before she was tackled back onto the floor by the Governor. 

Her head slammed into the floor and tears sprung into her eyes. He lay over her, his knees pinning her legs onto the wet floor and his hands on her neck. His breath was on her face and the water from the tanks that soaked his hair went into her mouth and eyes - and Beth suddenly felt the leaves beneath her back and heard the sound of Daryl screaming, the snow soaking into her sweatshirt and someone’s cold hands on her thighs. 

_ No. Please no, _she pleaded, and to who, she didn’t know. 

She struggled, her eyesight blacking out around the edges as he gripped onto her throat, cutting off her air. She tried to kick and swing, but her fists didn’t seem to make him budge. She was reliving her nightmare all over again, and she didn’t know what to do.

He let go suddenly, pinning her wrists to the floor. She could just make out the woman lying on the ground a few feet away, struggling to get up. Blood poured from a huge cut on her forehead, into her eyes. 

“Those rednecks aren’t here to protect you know, are they? I should keep you in here, how does that sound, just for me?” He whispered into her ear, and Beth shivered, desperately trying to kick with her feet, to hit something that would hurt, but she couldn’t. 

She struggled, but she had grounded herself. She wasn’t in the woods. Daryl’s shouting was only in her imagination because he was waiting for her by the oak tree - ready to go somewhere better. She was here, and alive, and she would put up one hell of a fight. 

“I’d rather die,” She spat, and when the Governor laughed, throwing his head back, causing the blood from his nose to splatter onto her face, she slammed her head into his. 

He reeled back, letting go of her for long enough that she could scramble backward and force her body to stand up, even if it _ really _didn’t want to. More blood poured from his nose, and if the other woman hadn’t broken it, Beth certainly had. 

While he moaned on the floor, Beth rushed over to help the woman up, setting her on her feet. A sharp pain went through Beth’s head, and she was jerked backward by her hair, back into the aquarium. She barely registered the glass shattering next to her head and the _ plop _ of another head hitting the ground before she watched as Michonne launched herself at him again, scratching and punching. 

Beth had barely stood up as she watched him slam her head back onto the floor, ignoring the blood pouring down her back from a cut on her head. He had knocked her unconscious. Beth suddenly felt very alone. 

He got back up and spun around to face Beth and they stared at each other for what felt like hours, but it was only a few seconds, she knew. Both of their chests heaved and they were covered in blood and walker water, and when Beth’s eyes flicked to her steak knife lying on the ground only a few feet away, wondering if there was enough distance between them for her to rush and get it, he threw himself toward her again. 

She hit the ground hard, her ribs screaming in pain, and she felt his hands around her throat again, squeezing. She struggled, and her vision slowly blacked out around the sides again and her chest felt like it might explode if she didn’t take a breath _ now_. Her hands scratched at the floor beneath her, and she barely registered the feeling of something sharp cutting into one of her fingers, until she realized that it was a shard of glass. 

She used her last remaining bit of strength to grasp it in her fingers and bring it back to her chest, plunging it into the Governor’s face, hitting one of his eyes. 

The _ squelch _ of it nearly caused her to vomit, and the feeling of hot blood splattering onto her face and chest _ again _was horrible, but she was too busy sucking down air as her life depended on it, because it did. 

The Governor threw himself away from her, sharp screams and moans of pain echoing throughout the apartment. Beth cringed, but not in sympathy, only because she was imagining how painful it must have been. Beth cried when she got an eyelash in her eye, for Christ’s sake. 

She limped over to her bow and quiver of arrows, that had somehow fallen off of her shoulder at some point. The woman was coming to, pulling herself up and grasping at her sword. Beth really needed to know her name. 

Beth helped her up and they both quietly watched as the man rolled around on the floor, surrounded by walker heads and blood. Beth thought that she might have felt a sense of accomplishment, perhaps even smugness, but she only felt cold. 

The woman cringed as she bent down to sling the sword over her shoulder, but her eyes never left the man who was now dragging himself over to the little girl laying the middle of broken glass, walker heads, and blood. Beth quickly limped out of the room before she could hear the cries of the little girl’s name. 

The woman stayed, her eyes flicking between Beth and the Governor. Beth didn’t care what the woman did at the moment if she sent her sword through the Governor’s neck or followed Beth back down onto the street, all Beth cared about was finding Daryl and getting the hell out of that room. 

Gus stood at the door to the room, crying and panting with his tail tucked between his legs. Beth ran a fingernail between his ears, 

“Let’s go, buddy,” She whispered, nudging him towards the front door. She had what she came for, the weight of her bow across her shoulders comforting and familiar. It felt like she always somehow involved herself in things she should have stayed out of, maybe Andrea had been right. 

The front door to the apartment slammed against the wall and a blonde blur scurried in, yelling for the Governor. Beth slid into the corner, staying in the shadows as Andrea swept past her into the room. Beth would stay out of it this time, but she wanted to watch. 

From the stiffness that Andrea’s shoulders suddenly took on and the clench of her fist, Beth assumed she was just as clueless to the contents of this room as Beth was. She froze when she spotted the woman standing over the Governor, her hands on her sword, not moving. 

They stared at each other for a long time, and Beth saw a flash of betrayal and anger in the woman’s face as she looked at Andrea - could Andrea have been the woman at the gate? 

The Governor continued to cry, more whimpers than anything, and Beth had a gnawing sense that the little girl with the hole between her eyes had been his daughter. Now that she looked at the little girl, she could see the resemblance there, and it hurt. 

Because even if the Governor was a madman, she couldn’t imagine the loss of a child. Obviously, the Governor hadn’t dealt with her death well in the first place, and now, she could see that he was just a man. 

He wasn’t some comic book supervillain, someone with superpowers or extreme intelligence. He was just a man who had let the world get to him, and that scared Beth more than anything else. 

“Get out,” Andrea said suddenly, moving over to pull the Governor away from the rotting body, eyeing the snapping walker heads surrounding her feet. Beth wondered if she was rethinking her choice in partner. 

The woman ran out around Andrea quicker than Beth could process, but she followed her anyway. They helped each other down the stairs without a word, leaning against one another as they made their way back onto the street and around the building, where they had ran into each other in the first place. 

The sun had risen, blinding and warm on Beth’s skin. The sky was blue and the birds were chirping in the trees, and if Beth looked out over the main street, it was deserted. She wondered how the town looked so beautiful when only a few hours before it had been plagued by gunshots and screaming. 

Beth felt woozy and she could feel the blood from the back of her head pouring down onto her back, hot and sticky. The woman next to her looked equally as bad, she was sure, but she could only keep her eyes focused directly in front of her, or else she felt as if she was about to pass out. 

They separated and Beth finally watched as the woman limped away from her, towards the North gate. Beth wanted to know more, ask the woman’s name and know if she would be alright getting to the other side of Woodbury alone and bleeding - but Beth knew that she had to be selfish, she had to go to Daryl. 

“Good luck,” Beth whispered, tossing it over her shoulder as she turned to go the other way. She wondered what Daryl’s reaction would be when he saw her, covered in her own blood (and some of the Governor’s), smelling like a rotting corpse, but holding her bow up with a proud smile as he reamed into her about being stupid. 

She honestly looked forward to it. 

“Thank you,” the woman whispered back, her eyes burning a hole into her boots. Beth got the sudden feeling that the woman wasn’t used to accepting help.

“You’re welcome,” Beth told her, and they parted ways peacefully. Beth hoped she would be alright, even if she left empty-handed. It felt strange, wanting someone who came into a community to kill someone to make it, but she had a scratching feeling that the woman had good intentions, that her reasons were justified. She wanted the woman to survive, even if Beth never saw her again. 

Maybe a tiny part of old Beth was still there, hiding, and that gave her hope. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“She should be here by now,” he whispered, moving to check a watch when he remembered that he didn’t wear one, had never worn one, for fuck’s sake. Beth needed to get there _ now _. 

No one answered Daryl’s grumblings, and he was silently grateful. 

The group was a few hundred yards into the woods, close enough so that they could see the part of the wall that gapped just enough for a small human to get through comfortably, but far enough away that anyone on the wall wouldn’t be able to see them. 

No one was on the walls, guarding, and that scared the shit out of Daryl. What was going on in there? 

Rick quietly spoke a few feet away with a woman who had limped towards them about an hour ago, and Daryl felt a prick of recognition but shoved it away quickly - he didn’t really care if he knew the girl from Adam. 

Glenn and the man Daryl had knocked unconscious (who’s name was Oscar, apparently) were behind him, tending to Glenn’s numerous wounds and bruises as best as they could before they headed back to the prison on the highway. Daryl knew he was holding them up, and he had even told them to leave, but it was_ that fucking woman _that had refused to leave. 

Maggie stared at the space between his shoulder blades, as she had been for the past hour, and it was driving Daryl slowly out of his mind. 

He turned to look at her, glaring, but it only seemed to encourage her more, because she moved to stand next to him, looking wary. 

He didn’t know what it was, but there was something about the older Greene sister that pissed him off every time she breathed. It had been that way since the farm, and he thought it might have been because she didn’t know when to keep her mouth shut, but even when she wasn’t talking Daryl wanted to slap her. 

Maggie hadn’t cried when Daryl had told her that her little sister had been alive this entire time, she had only seemed shocked if that was even the word for it. They hadn’t spoken a word to each other since.

“She’s been with you this entire time?” Maggie whispered and Daryl nodded, turning to look back at the gap in the wall through the trees. 

He tried not to feel ashamed at her words because the way she said it made him feel dirty and gross like she thought he had kept Beth on a chain and dragged her around with him. The entire group made him feel horrible because he could recognize the expression on Rick’s face when they saw each other - they all thought he had made a break for it and hadn’t looked back. 

He tried not to let it get to his pride, but it was slowly making its way in. 

He had taken care of this woman’s sister, had taught her as best as he could and treated her like she was an equal - and Beth was, she was one of the kindest and sincerest people Daryl had ever met, and he cared for her a lot more than he could ever admit out loud. Yet this woman had the audacity to think he had taken advantage of her little sister? It hurt a lot more than it should have. 

He automatically flashed to the mornings when he had woken up long before Beth, when he just watched her snore and her nose scrunch up as she dreamed, or when she scooted closer to him on the couch to read over his shoulder and he didn’t tell her to move, or when they had danced only a few hours ago and he had almost kissed her without thinking - God, he was absolutely fucked. 

Maggie didn’t need to know about that, because Daryl wasn’t going to let anything else happen if he could help it. Even if he really wanted to see Beth’s lips red and her face flushed. 

“What happened?” Maggie questioned, and Daryl looked at her, confused, pushing her to explain. 

“How did you two end up getting out together?” 

Ah, well, that was easy enough to answer. 

“I found her in the fields, Lori left her there,” He explained, shrugging his shoulders. Had Beth had a gun in her hand? He didn’t remember. All he remembered was seeing blonde curls underneath a walker and shooting, pulling her off and into the woods before he even thought hard about who it was. 

A resounding silence, cold and uncomfortable, fell over the group, and Daryl decided to just stay out of whatever the fuck _ that _ was. Had Rick finally figured out that the kid, if it had even made it, probably wasn’t his? Had the kid even made it? Had Lori? 

His eyes followed Glenn as he limped over to Rick and that woman, whose identity was really annoying Daryl because he swore he knew her from somewhere, he just wasn’t sure where, when Maggie’s voice pulled him out of an internal argument with himself. 

“Your brother did that,” She told him, cold, and he reeled back in barely controlled shock. 

Merle had beat Glenn up? Matter of fact, why were Glenn and Maggie even in Woodbury in the first place? 

“He kidnapped us while we were on a run, we were your little captives for a good week,” Maggie explained, and he could see from her posture and the condescending tilt of her head that she just wanted to_ ream _ into Daryl because her little sister did the same thing when she was mad. 

“There’s no fucking ‘your’ in this, I had no idea,” He argued, crossing his arms, unadmittedly uncomfortable. He didn’t like to be thrown into the same boat as Merle, no matter how much he loved him - it made Daryl want to crawl into his own skin. 

“Sure,” Maggie sighed, crossing her arms in mirror of him, they both watched as Glenn and the woman spoke about something, Glenn’s hands unclenching and clenching at his sides. 

“Do you really think Beth would let me be a part of it?” Daryl mumbled, kicking at the dirt under his boots while eyeing the wall. _ She should be here by now. _

Maggie looked at him strangely, though he didn’t see it, “Would Beth care what you did?” 

“She usually does,” Daryl shrugged, shuffling when Glenn stomped his way over, the woman unwillingly in tow. 

“Michonne saw Beth, in Woodbury,” He told them, his eyes wild and excited like it was a good thing that this strange woman that nobody seemed to trust had seen Beth before she seemingly disappeared, but Daryl kept his opinions to himself. 

“Where?” Maggie asked before Daryl could even open his mouth. 

“A few blocks before the wall, she was coming this way,” the woman said, almost too quiet to hear, even in the silence of the woods. Daryl felt as if she was withholding something, but he didn’t care, because he knew that Beth was still inside Woodbury and he had to go get her out. 

“I’m going to get her,” Daryl told them, mostly to himself, and then started towards the wall to head back inside. A hand on his arm stopped him and he spun around to face Maggie, who looked determined. 

“I’m coming with you,” she told him, motioning for Glenn to hand her the gun now strapped to his belt. 

“No,” Daryl laughed, “you’re not.” He’d rather throw himself into the Governor’s willing hands before he let her tag after him, glaring and pouting. 

“I’m her sister,” She spat, like that made a difference in Daryl’s opinion. 

“Then where have you fucking been for eleven months?” 

“I - you can’t say that, I didn’t know where she was,” She faltered. 

“No, you thought she was dead, just say it like it is,” 

“Fuck you!” Maggie yelled, stepping forward like she was going to throw a punch, which Daryl _dared her, _before Glenn and Rick stepped forward. 

“Alright, you two! No one is going in until we have a plan,” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Beth? Beth is that you?” A voice yelled, and Beth didn’t know whether to run or turn and play it off like nothing is wrong, which was a stupid idea, since she was covered in blood and God only knew what else. Could she catch something from those tanks? 

“Oh my God, what happened?” Rose whispered, her hand going to her mouth. Melody wasn’t too far behind her, looking at Beth as if she was a character in one of those awful horror movies that gave kids resounding nightmares. 

“I’m fine,” She told her, giving her a weak smile that seemed to read pain to the woman because she scrambled over to support her. 

“You are obviously not, where’s Daryl?” She questioned, rubbing her hands up and down Beth’s shoulders as if she looked cold. Beth didn’t feel cold, she didn’t really feel anything at the moment. She only wanted to get to the oak tree in one piece, she would deal with everything afterward.

If only Beth knew the answer to her question. She looked longingly at the wall, debating whether or not her body could make a break for it. 

She started pulling her away, towards the main street, and Gus whined. 

“Let’s get you to the infirmary,” Rose said, matter of fact, and Beth ripped herself from her friend’s grasp. 

“No!” She couldn’t go to the infirmary for two reasons, Daryl wasn’t there and the Governor was there, with only one eye. Beth didn’t need to see her handiwork. 

“Beth, you look like you’re about to fall over! What the hell even happened to you?” Rose sighed, but Beth could tell from the look in her eyes that she was still shaken about what had just occurred. She wondered if anyone had told the civilian-side of Woodbury what had even happened yet. 

Did that mean that the group was gone if people were out on the streets? 

“I’m not going, I’m sorry Rose,” Beth explained, her heart aching, because Rose was her_ friend _, someone she actually liked and wanted to be okay - but there was something holding her back from telling the woman to come with her to the oak tree. 

“I’ll take her,” a voice said, startling both Rose and Beth. 

Rose just looked confused, but looked at the woman with a sense of friendliness - Beth felt cold. She wanted her feet to move, but they didn’t listen. 

Andrea moved to take Rose’s place, holding Beth up as she gave the little girl and her mother a warm smile. All Beth could smell was _ bitch. _

“I’ll take care of Beth, do you two mind taking care of her little friend for a while?” Andrea asked, looking pointedly at Gus. Beth felt relieved that someone would be taking care of Gus as she was led to what she assumed was going to be a guillotine of some kind, but a sense of protectiveness came over her. Andrea didn’t _ deserve _ to look at Beth’s dog.

Rose nodded eagerly and Melody ran over to pet Gus in between the ears, which he welcomed happily. The last thing Beth saw before she rounded the corner with Andrea was Rose looking back at her worriedly, almost like she regretted her decision. 

The adrenaline that had been keeping Beth going had left her, and she felt as if Andrea was nearly dragging her to wherever they were going. People looked at the two strangely as they walked across town, looking at Beth with something she could only describe as pity. Did they think those people did this to her? How would they react when they knew their savior had done this? 

They went into a building that Beth was sure wasn’t the infirmary, if the armed guards meant anything. Andrea pushed her towards a random door, pushing it open to reveal a set of stereotypical basement steps. 

Ah, so she wasn’t going to the guillotine, merely the brig. 

She felt as if she was about to fall over, the blood dried but her head pumping. She couldn’t feel her arms or her legs, almost like they were moving on their own. Even if she couldn’t fight physically, she was going to give Andrea a hell of a time with her mouth. 

“So… Am I supposed to go down the creepy basement stairs willingly, or..?” 

“Just go, Beth,” Andrea spat and Beth planted her feet. 

“Make me,”

Andrea’s hand latched onto her ponytail, and Beth’s body ached as she was nearly dragged down the stairs into a pretty stereotypical basement, landing on the cement floor with a _ oof! _

“You really did it this time,” Andrea told her, wiping her hands on her shirt like Beth was dirty. 

“I just wanted my bow back,” Beth explained, cringing as she tweaked her back and coughing when her ribs seemingly collapsed in on her lungs. 

“Well, you got a bit more than that didn’t you?” 

“I don’t think you deserve to be giving me an attitude at this moment, Andrea,” Beth spat, and when the woman raised her eyebrows Beth continued, “boyfriend keeping his rotting daughter and a wall full of walker heads in a backroom? I’d say that’s worse than a girl on the side,” 

Andrea’s face flushed red, and Beth could only keep talking. 

“Tell me, were they able to save his eye?” 

She took a step closer as if to pummel her into the ground, but she took a deep breath and spun around to start up the stairs. Beth rolled her eyes unwillingly, scanning the cement walls with nothing short of boredom. 

She hadn’t noticed that Andrea had stopped on the stairs, her hand on the railing, her voice is what brought Beth back from her thoughts. 

“What happened to you, Beth?” 

“I learned,” Beth spat, pulling back the _ fuck you _ that was in her throat. She ran her palms down her thighs, no doubt leaving streaks of blood down the denim. 

“It’s a shame,” Andrea told her, and Beth was sure she was trying to go for a mournful tone of voice, you know, to add a bit of flair to their conversation, but it just came out as condescending. 

Beth let out a hoarse laugh, picking at the glass in her fingertips. Her vision felt as if it was closing in on her, the blackness of unconsciousness creeping ever closer. 

“A shame that I didn’t die innocent and pretty? I don’t want to die anymore, Andrea,” Beth told her, honest because she didn’t want to die, not anymore. 

Andrea nodded and went up the last few stairs without a word. 

The stress and anxiety of not knowing where Daryl was finally settled in, and Beth felt like her body should be panicking, but it was like her emotions were mellowed, like her brain was malfunctioning. Low blood supply could do that to someone, she assumed. 

Was he worried about her? Or was he mad? Was he somewhere in Woodbury, looking for her? Would she ever get Gus back from Rose and Melody? Even if she didn’t make it, she wanted Daryl to have the poor dog. 

Why had she gone with the woman in the first place? Daryl would have gotten her a new bow and they would have been on their merry way, away from the chaos of this damn town. 

What if dancing in their apartment had been their only shot, and she would never get to see Daryl again? That scared her more than anything. Dying didn’t scare her anymore, she had dreamed of it at one point, now, she only feared not getting to see him again, wondering if what they had was it. 

The slam of the door seemed to signal for the last bit of adrenaline keeping Beth awake to leave, the blackness taking over her vision and a sense of peace falling over her; and she could only wonder where Daryl was, if he was safe, and if he was worried about her.


	19. Fight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, it's been a REALLY long time. I'm sorry for not updating, I lost a bit of the writing fever and then 2020 happened, ya know. This is kind of a long chapter, but I hope it's up to par because I'm still trying to get back into the groove of things! I honestly felt like no one was reading this, but some of your recent comments asking when an update will come and how much y'all love the story really pushed me to write. 
> 
> Thank you guys for sticking with me, it means a lot more than you know. I hope everyone is happy and healthy. 
> 
> \- bee

_ The slam of the door seemed to signal for the last bit of adrenaline keeping Beth awake to leave, the blackness taking over her vision and a sense of peace falling over her; and she could only wonder where Daryl was, if he was safe, and if he was worried about her. _

The first thing that Beth was aware of when she came to was loud, mind-numbing shouting, almost like the crowds at a football game. Her whole body ached, not just a consistent ache,  _ everything hurt _ ; and she didn’t want to open her eyes because she was worried that if she did, her head might explode. 

Where was she again? She certainly wasn’t in their apartment, the hooting of a crowd and the gravel digging into her back proved that. Her ribs ached and her head felt like it might roll off onto the ground, sharp pains ran up her arms from her palms, sticky and painful when she opened and closed them into fists. She didn’t feel like she was on the brink of death - just close, though she might have just spoken too soon. 

When she finally peeled apart her eyelids, the first thing she saw was the stars. She could barely make out the constellations that Daryl had shown her so many months ago, twinkling an infinite space away from her. How long had she been out, if it was dark? A day? Two days? 

If she had been unconscious for however long, where was Daryl? Had he made it to the oak tree okay? Was he safe? 

The incessant chanting was coming from all around her, surrounding her. A bright light was shining down onto her face, though she couldn’t make out the source, she couldn’t really make out  _ anything.  _ Her thoughts felt like a messy string of words and phrases, nothing coherent or sane, but her instincts told her that something was  _ wrong _ .

She sat up on her elbows, ignoring the twinge of her ribs, instead, she zeroed in on the thick chain and shackle clasped onto one of her ankles, tethering her to a post a few feet away. The stinging cuts in her palms had started to scab over, but her arms were covered in dried blood. When she reached back to touch her head wound, it stung and she let out a small gasp. Her hair was matted with blood, still smelling like walker water. It hurt to swallow, and she wasn’t sure if it was due to dehydration or the bruises she knew were surely circling her neck, the perfect shape of a hand. 

A growl from behind her sent her to her feet, hair on the back of her neck rising and a wave of dizziness ignored in favor of instincts. A cheer went through the crowd that she could now just make out when she squinted, sitting in small, arena-like stands and crowded around the edges of the dirt arena she was seemingly chained in the middle of. 

She instinctively reached for the steak knife that she had jammed into her boot while she helped that woman down the five flights of stairs, but of course, found it missing. The growls persisted, but they weren’t getting any closer. She could hear a faint shuffling of another chain from somewhere behind her, which meant it wasn’t going anywhere, much like her. 

The bright lights took a toll on her headache (or concussion? She definitely had a concussion) and she closed her eyes, squeezing as tight as she could. Maybe it would all go away if she kept them closed for long enough. 

Somehow, even with her eyes closed, the lights were brighter and a loud wave of excitement went through the crowd, and Beth cringed. She opened her eyes to see what was going on, slowly adjusting, and now she could finally see what lay in front of her. She honestly wished that she had kept her eyes shut. 

There was a machete lying a few feet in front of her, and roughly looking at the chain she was attached to, it was too far away. When she turned to look behind her, she found two men holding a walker back with chains, staring at her. 

In front of her, was Merle Dixon. 

Suddenly, a man walked into the middle of the arena and after her eyesight adjusted, realized it was the Governor. His eyepatch still shined with its freshness and Beth hoped whatever lay beneath it was gruesome. She hoped that she shoved that piece of glass so deep that the eye was useless. 

The crowd grew eerily silent and Beth shivered - because was  _ this  _ normal? From looking at the crowd, nearly everyone in Woodbury was here. She and Daryl had been here for months and they had never even heard a word about things like this. Was this what Andrea had warned her about? The barbeque was supposed to be today, if she had been unconscious for only a day, and she could just barely smell cooking meat - was this what they called a party nowadays? Or was this just for her? Some sick punishment the Governor had come up with high on painkillers? 

When Beth scanned the crowd, she spotted Rose standing next to Andrea, obvious tears shining in her eyes and a stiff posture. Beth somehow felt lucky when she didn’t see Melody next to her. 

The Governor’s voice echoed throughout the arena, and both Beth and Merle turned to watch as he paced between them, his fists clenched at his sides. She noticed that Merle’s ankle was shackled as well, a walker looming over his shoulder, kept contained by two other men. 

"These two people, people that we have taken in, fed, sheltered... Have decided to betray us. They have, quite literally, bit the hand that fed them - and now, they will pay the price. They have become untrustworthy, dangerous, and wild. Do they deserve to be punished?" He shouted, and the crowd screamed in excitement while a sick feeling settled in Beth's stomach - Merle looked as sick as she did. 

What had Merle done? She hadn’t seen him since he ditched them before their dinner with the Governor, after he had skillfully dodged her questions about the nasty bruises on his knuckles. 

The Governor walked towards her, a skip in his step and a crazed gleam in his eye. Either he was really hyped up on painkillers or the final string holding his sanity together snapped, or maybe both. Maybe she hit a part of his brain with the glass shard. 

He spun around to point at Merle, grinning, "This man has committed treason against us, refusing to commit acts that would be useful to our community as a whole. Is that alright?" He asked, the crowd booed in response. 

He spun around to Beth then, reaching to grab her hair and pull - why did everyone want to pull at her hair? 

"And this little lady has been charged with attempted murder," He spat, she pulled back, fumbling with his hands and trying to pull them away from her scalp - because the gash on the back of her head  _ screamed  _ and she felt a fresh wave of hot blood go down her neck, but he threw her down onto the dirt to her knees before she could get a good grip. He leaned down in front of her, gripping the bottom of her chin and pulling her head up to look him in the eye. 

"What a shame, such a pretty face," He whispered, moving her head around as if he was assessing her. The skin around the eyepatch was red and swollen, and he looked pale as a ghost. 

She did what any girl would do, she spit in his face. It was a good shot, really, landing right around his mouth. The crowd cheered, either in excitement or amusement, but it seemed to only egg the Governor on, because he pulled his hand back and slapped her hard across the face. 

She heard Merle struggle against his chains, but the ringing in her ears blocked out most of what was around her, including the Governor's explanation of the game they were about to play. 

"You all know the rules of this game, the longer it takes them to kill the other opponent, the closer the biters behind them get," He stepped back from the ring, into the crowds, she watched in satisfaction as he wiped the spit away in disgust.

"Let the game begin," 

Their chains released a few feet and Beth was pushed by someone behind her into the middle of the arena. Closer to Merle Dixon and the machete that gleamed between the two of them. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Beth stumbled, nearly falling to her knees as her headache got worse, spots forming around her eyes and her heart pumping so fast it felt like it would crawl up and out of her throat in protest.

She could feel the walker behind her, its fingers occasionally sliding across her shoulders and the rattle of the chains as it came closer and closer. The men were laughing behind her, immersed in their own conversation like they weren’t watching a girl and a man fight to the death in front of a cheering crowd. 

They had been fighting, yes, but Merle was barely hitting her. If a hit from Merle Dixon could be called a  _ bitch slap _ , this was it. The edge of his prosthetic had caught on her cheek, splitting the skin there and causing fresh blood to pour down her face. She was sure that if he had laid a punch on her she would have been on the gravel and eaten in no time, probably within the first minute. 

His knife-hand was gone, leaving only the metal stub, and he had not-so-subtly kicked the machete towards her, but she refused to pick it up. She was going out stubborn, no matter if she never saw Daryl again and was torn apart by walkers in front of this entire community, she wasn’t going to give in to what everyone wanted. 

“Goddammit, girl, just fucking kill me!” Merle hissed and Beth shook her head, wheezing and going in for a light punch to Merle’s stomach, just barely grazing the shirt there. She felt like she might pass out if she put anymore effort into her punches. 

It seemed like the crowd was buying it, but whenever she flicked her eyes towards the Governor, his face grew redder by the minute. 

A seed of doubt suddenly settled in her stomach. Was Daryl coming back for her? Did he even make it to the oak tree, or had the invading group killed him without a second thought? Oh, God, what if Daryl was dead? The only thing keeping Beth fighting was the idea that Daryl was alive and safe somewhere, but what if he wasn’t? 

** No** , Daryl was strong. He would come for her, he never left her behind, she just hoped that it was soon because she wasn’t sure how much longer she could make it on her own.

The Governor was suddenly next to them, throwing what looked like a rock at Merle’s head, which he dodged with ease. 

“Let the chains out more!” He screamed, spittle flying from his mouth and his face and neck redder than she had ever seen. Beth heard the chains rattling as more of it was let go and she could feel the rotten fingers grasping at her hair, pulling her closer to rotten teeth and blood. 

She stumbled forward, scrambling to grab the machete by her feet. The walker was too far away for her to stab, probably on purpose, she could technically throw it, but she hadn’t thrown a knife in months, especially something the size of her whole arm. She wouldn’t be able to hit it, even this close. 

She suddenly realized that she only had one choice. If she wanted to somehow make it out alive and find Daryl, she would have to kill one of the only people that she cared about. 

She wanted to cry, to drop to her knees and scream because she didn’t want to have to do this, to fight to the death with Merle, someone she had come to love like she had loved her own brother. 

She suddenly felt like the kid she was. She wanted her mom. She wanted to let her hold her and make her chase all of this away and tell her that everything would be alright - tell her that the dead fingers pulling at her hair and the weight of the machete in her hands wasn’t real. She didn’t want to have to look Merle Dixon in the eyes as she shoved a machete into his chest and then get killed afterward anyway. 

But her mother was dead. In a grave Beth never saw, a memorial of rocks lay on top of her rotting body. Beth was alone, and she cried. 

“Just do it,” Merle whispered, holding his hands out in surrender and the crowd booed. Were these really the people she grocery shopped with, the people whose kids she cared for, and watched most of the week? Did they stop and think about what they had all become? 

"I can’t, Merle," She sobbed, slapping at the hands that pulled at her hair so incessantly now. She tried to block out the sounds of the crowd, the walkers both growling behind them, the sound of the Governor yelling that they were taking too long, all she tried to focus on was Merle. 

"I can't," She whispered, she sounded so much like a little girl, like Melody was standing there instead of her. She thought she could see tears glistening in Merle's eyes, but the tears in her own fogged her vision too much to tell if she was right. 

Merle opened his mouth to say something, reaching out to pull her towards him more, to line the knife up with his heart ( _ left side, in between the ribs, _ she heard Daryl tell her), when the first gas bomb went off, filling the small arena with smoke. She could hear the screams of excitement stop, suddenly confused, and then they became terrified. 

Gunfire filled the area and the people in the stands scattered like ants, even the Governor was pulled away by the rush of the crowd towards the exit into the street. Another bomb went off somewhere behind Beth, and she could see some of the men firing back into the smoke. She felt a sense of deja vu at the sight. They were soon taken out by gunmen she couldn’t see, collapsing to the ground. 

The sound of an arrow firing and the  _ thunk _ of an arrow as it settled into the walker’s skull behind her startled her, watching as it collapsed mere inches from her feet. 

He came out of nowhere, appearing from the mist in the same clothes that she left him in, only a bit dirtier. Their eyes met, and she knew that everything would be fine because  _ he came back for her. _

He ran to her, shouting her name so loud that her head ached but she didn't care because his arms suddenly wrapped around her and pulled her into his chest, and she was okay. 

Before she could ask him if he was alright (which was hilarious, because why would she want to ask if  _ he _ was alright) his mouth was on hers and her mind blanked out and her knees felt like they gave way. 

It wasn’t anything like she had imagined, because it was  _ better.  _ This wasn’t dream Daryl, it wasn’t cold and confusing like things were in dreams, his lips were hot on hers and the weight of his hands were on her neck, pulling her closer, making her face feel hot. The smell of him was better this close, and if someone could somehow taste like a sunny day in the woods smelled, Daryl did. 

She wasn’t sure what to do with her mouth or hands at first, settling them awkwardly on his shoulders and just copying what Daryl did. She was sure that the tears running down her cheeks and the blood covering most of her body weren’t usually part of a teenage girl’s first kiss, but she kissed back as fiercely as she could manage while chained to a fence post. 

The burn in her chest and the butterflies fluttering around her stomach were comforting, only making her want to kiss deeper and to scratch her nails down his back and share their breaths. 

Her mind rushed back to a random discussion with her mom on their porch, two cups of tea between them, when her mother had wistfully told her that when she had kissed her father for the first time she knew that he was  _ it _ . She knew that he was the man she would spend the rest of her life with, who would be the father of her children and the person she wanted to talk to at the end of a long day - and Beth suddenly understood what her mother meant. 

She had written in her journal only a day ago that the idea of finding someone you could love and care for in a chance apocalypse buddy was naive, but she didn’t really care, she’d cross it out if she had to. 

Daryl pulled back from her and Beth wanted to tell him not to, to pull him back in and pretend like nothing else around them mattered, but he had suddenly noticed the blood and bruises covering her face and body and had gone into overdrive, talking a mile a minute. 

She didn’t really hear everything that he said, but she caught snippets of him worrying over her injuries and cursing at the sight of the blood from the back of her head, and something about someone named Rick and how he shouldn’t have told her to leave and that he was so sorry - but she didn’t care about any of it. They were both okay, and that was all that mattered to her. 

He was still talking when she pulled him in for another kiss, just as great as the first one. 

When they seperated, Beth smiled, and the look of utter devotion and care that was hidden behind Daryl’s eyes caused her to have to blink back tears because she recognized it, she had seen that look in Daryl’s eyes for  _ weeks _ , wondering what it meant, and now she knew. He liked her too, and she wasn’t alone. 

Of course, Merle had to butt in. 

“Can y’all hurry up and fuck and get me out of these things?” Merle grumbled, shaking the chain that was attached to his ankle for good measure. The walker that had been behind him now lay in a similar heap to hers, an arrow jutting out of its skull. 

She peeled her arms from around his neck with a blush, realizing that Merle had seen  _ everything _ , but soon became occupied with watching Daryl whack at her chain with an ax that he pulled from his belt. 

It took a bit of work and some maneuvering, but soon she was free, she just only hoped that they could find tools to pry the shackle off of her ankle. 

“She’s way out of your league, you know,” Merle chuckled, watching as his little brother worked over his chain with a smirk. Daryl rolled his eyes, but his cheeks were pink, letting out a breath when the chain broke into two. 

“I know,” 

  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When they made it to the main street, chaos had broken out among Woodbury again. Walkers had somehow poured into streets, probably drawn to them by the bright lights and the screams of the crowd. She wondered who had opened the gate. People ran into buildings left and right, some frozen in fear in the middle of the street. 

Adrenaline had somehow kicked back in and Beth wondered how her body was holding up. She was still bleeding after God only knew how long and she hadn’t eaten for nearly two days, but she tried to focus on the feeling of Daryl’s hand in hers and the sound of their boots hitting the concrete. 

“We need to find Rose, she has Gus!” Beth shouted, jumping out of the way as a walker tried to take a chunk out of her arm. She stabbed a hunting knife that Daryl had handed her into its skull, pushing and shoving it away from her with whatever strength was left. Merle was somewhere behind them, cussing and seemingly having the time of his life. 

Her hands felt empty without her bow, but she had no idea what happened to it after she passed out in the basement. Andrea had probably sent someone down to take it after Beth was out. 

All that fucking work and she had lost it again. 

“Rick and Glenn are waiting at the gate, we’ll meet them after we find ‘em,” He told her, stopping to get rid of two walkers that blocked their path. Beth suddenly stopped, her boots scuffing on the asphalt. 

“What?” She whispered, her knife hanging at her side. Hadn’t Daryl said something about someone named Rick after he had kissed her? Had he meant  _ the _ Rick? Atlanta Rick? 

He spun to look at her, confused, but continued, “They were the ones shooting, Maggie is here too, Beth,”

Her breath caught in her throat and she felt herself begin to shake, suddenly overwhelmed. Maggie was  _ here _ ? Her sister was alright?

A thousand thoughts ran through her mind, mostly focused on the fact that Maggie was  _ here _ . A few months after the highway, after Beth had gotten over her anger of being left behind, of her family thinking that she was dead, she dreamt of hugging her sister again. She dreamt of being able to see her face again, of laughing and cracking silly jokes together. Now, that she could see the moment up ahead, she didn’t know how to feel. 

A shout startled them both, and a blur came out of her left field and smacked straight into her, and they would have toppled her over if Daryl hadn’t steadied her shoulders. 

Maggie. 

"Beth!" Maggie shouted, her voice bubbly and high-pitched from the tears that Beth could see tracking down some of the dust and sweat that covered her sister's face. Her hair was a lot longer than Beth remembered it, and she looked a little skinnier - they all did - but she was safe, and that was all that mattered right then. 

Her older sister sobbed into her shoulder, blubbering something about  _ I'm sorry _ and  _ thought you were gone _ \- a few tears slipped out of Beth's eyes too, but she wasn't sure if it was because she was finally holding her big sister again or because Maggie was squeezing her broken ribs.

Her body was so overwhelmed from all of the sensations and sounds that she was beginning to think that she wasn’t feeling  _ anything _ . She distantly felt Maggie grab her cheeks, not minding the gash on her face, and felt her plant a big kiss on her forehead. 

“You’re really here?” Maggie whispered, almost like she couldn’t really believe it and Beth nodded, studying her sister’s face. As Maggie hugged her again, and she saw Daryl over her shoulder, someone who represented who she had become and how much she had changed, a thought that had haunted her since the highway came back to her. 

_ Can you look them in the eyes and ask them why they gave up on you, why they gave up on Daryl?  _

She wasn’t sure if she was ready for her answer yet. 

“Let’s go,” Maggie told her and Beth nodded, following after her sister in a daze. She reached back to grab Daryl and pull him along with them, but when she came up empty-handed she saw that he had moved a few feet away, arguing quietly with his brother. 

Daryl looked angry, holding onto his brother’s wrist and shaking his head, but Merle just patted him on the shoulder and pulled away, giving Beth a salute before running back off into the chaos of Woodbury without even a proper goodbye. 

As she was being dragged towards her big sister, she watched Daryl’s shoulders slump as his big brother left, leaving him in the middle of a street filled with chaos and screams. She had gotten her big sibling back, Daryl had just lost his again. 

Hurt filled Beth’s chest for a moment, a little bit of betrayal mixed in, because why wouldn’t Merle want to stay with them, with his only living family? They had gone through all of that just for Merle to flake at the last minute? But Beth knew her anger was for nothing, because Merle would always do what he wanted. 

Daryl quickly caught up to them, but kept his distance. She could see Maggie glaring at him over her shoulder and she wondered what had transpired in the hours since Daryl had found them. 

“Daryl and I need to find our dog,” Beth told her, pulling back and accidentally stepping into Daryl. His hands went to her elbows to steady her and Maggie’s eyes zeroed in on the touch, criticizing. 

Damn, something really happened while she was away. 

Before she could explain to Maggie that yes, they really did in fact have a dog, or ask her what her problem was, Rose suddenly ran up to them, Melody hand in hand with her mother and Gus being dragged by a leash made out of a floral scarf. The woman’s eyes flicked around at the chaos wildly, sobbing. 

Melody was in her pajamas, barefoot, and the butterfly clips sat on her blonde hair. Tears tracked down her face and Beth’s heart clenched. The little girl was in a nightmare. 

"Take her, Beth, please!" Rose begged, shoving Melody into Daryl's and dropping the scarf tethering her to Gus. She backed away and Beth felt Maggie’s hand grip onto her arm, protective. 

A nasty bite blemished Rose’s shoulder, gushing dark blood. Beth’s heart sunk as she watched the dark liquid soak into the woman’s shirt. Rose had been her only friend in Woodbury, and even if Beth couldn’t bring herself to trust her like Rose seemingly trusted Beth, she appreciated the woman a lot more than she could admit. 

"Mommy!" Melody screamed, struggling against Daryl's hold, kicking and screaming to get back to her mother. Beth felt the tears in her eyes, the sting as they fell down the gash on her cheek. 

"I love you, sweet girl, so much." Rose sobbed, pressing a kiss to her palm and blowing it at Melody, forcing a smile on her face. "Beth and Daryl will take care of you, I promise," 

Rose looked at her then, really looked at her, tears streaking down her face. 

"Please take care of her,” 

Beth nodded numbly, unable to reassure her. She turned and walked away into the mass of people and walkers, away from her screaming daughter, away from Beth, who was realizing that Rose had done everything she could have possibly done for Melody, to protect her. 

Daryl picked up the kicking little girl and continued towards the gate, still gripping Beth's elbow, tugging her along with him. When they finally made it to the gate, she was met with a sight she never thought she would see again. 

Rick. 

He looked older, like the world had been shit to him for nearly a year - but he was there, and he was smiling at Beth. She didn't run to him, no, she didn't know him well enough before everything happened to miss him that much, but she hugged him all the same. He whispered that he was glad that she was okay, joking that they had to pin Daryl down to stop him from running back in to get her. 

A few others were around them, a man that Beth recognized as the man from earlier, the one Daryl had knocked out before sending her away. Glenn waved at her from behind Maggie, seemingly cautious of hugging her like Rick had. She had always liked Glenn. 

Beth tried to focus on Melody’s crying or Gus’ whining, to pay attention to the soft way Daryl was speaking to the little girl or the crunch of leaves underneath all of their boots as they slipped out of the North Wall without so much as a second glance - but she felt  _ numb _ . Nothing hurt anymore and her vision was starting to blur around the edges. None of it felt real, like a nasty nightmare that she was about to wake up from in their tiny bedroom with stars on the ceiling. 

It seemed too easy - because Beth had come to know that everything was hard now, nothing was ever simple. But the more the walls fell behind them and they walked further into the quiet woods, Beth felt lighter than she had in months. 

Daryl had let go of her elbow in favor of carrying Melody but Beth still stayed close enough to reach out and touch him if she needed. Maggie followed on her other side, and Beth tried not to instinctually pull away when her sister reached out to grab her elbow. 

Maggie was  _ good _ , she tried to tell herself,  _ Maggie was safe _ . 

“Daddy is gonna be so happy to see you,” Maggie whispered, pulling Beth closer into her side. It was too hot and Beth felt stifled and uncomfortable, but she forced herself to stay. She could feel Daryl’s eyes on her, occasionally flicking to her stumbling feet. Beth wondered where they were going. 

She never responded to Maggie’s words, and this seemed to put the woman out a bit, but Beth was  _ exhausted _ . At that moment, she didn’t care who she was with or who she was going to see, she just wanted to sleep. 

A voice came from behind her, comforting and deep, and Beth realized after playing it in her mind for a bit that it was Daryl, “I think Beth needs to sit down.” 

Maggie stopped, jerking Beth to a halt, but Beth just tried to keep her eyes on the ground. If she knew where the ground was she wouldn’t fall into it. She distantly heard the rest of the group stop and take a few steps back to check on them. 

“She’s fine,” Maggie told him, tightening her grip onto Beth’s shoulder and she nearly flinched in pain. Was she covered in bruises? It sure felt like it. 

“She’s about to pass out,” Daryl stepped forward, and Maggie took a step back, dragging Beth along with her. She wanted to fight back, to step back towards Daryl, but her body wouldn’t listen to her brain, no matter how loud it screamed. 

Beth brought her eyes up to see Daryl’s face, to try and tell him that she would make it to wherever they were going, but a wave of dizziness came over her and she felt herself stumble into what she assumed was Maggie. 

She heard a few people cry out as she stumbled and felt a big hand on her shoulder, guiding her and Maggie down onto the ground. It felt cold and nice, the damp moss cooling off her legs. Her vision was tunneling but she was still there, she just really wanted to  _ sleep _ . 

“We need to get her to Herschel,” someone said, she thought it might have been Rick. She felt a hand gently prod at the wound on the back of her head and she hissed, jerking away from the touch. 

“I’ll carry her,” a familiar voice said, Daryl - and she almost reached out to him before a hissing voice in her ear stopped her.

“You’re not touching her,” 

No one fought back and Beth reveled in the silence, her eyes slipping shut on their own accord. The adrenaline keeping her going was running out, and her body started to ache and burn. She couldn’t fight back against Maggie’s venom against Daryl even if she wanted to, her mouth felt like it was full of paper and her head felt even worse. 

She heard a tiny little voice talking to Daryl and she tried her hardest to keep her eyes open long enough to see what they were talking about because even if she was about to pass out, she wanted to know that Melody was okay. 

They were a bit away from the rest of the group, but Beth could still see them through the haze. Daryl had placed Melody back down onto the ground and they were whispering back and forth to one another in between Melody’s sobs, her head buried deep in one of his shoulders. 

“Why does your tummy hurt?” She heard Daryl ask, and she tried to ignore Maggie and Rick’s prodding, watching in between their shoulders as they seemingly tried to touch every one of her open wounds. Daryl smoothed Melody’s hair over her head, and Beth wished she could see his face. 

"One of them bit me," 

Beth’s mind couldn’t comprehend what Melody had said, but she watched as Daryl’s head reeled back and his hands tightened on the little girl’s shoulders. She couldn’t hear the rest of their conversation, even if she desperately fought to stay awake. Melody was hurt? What had bit her? 

Beth tried to drag herself back to the surface, to claw at the side of the cliff she was falling off of, but Maggie’s gentle shushing in her ear and Rick’s now-gentle prodding made her slip, falling into nothing once more. 

The last thing Beth had seen before she fell unconscious was Daryl gently tugging up Melody’s pajama shirt, and seeing the red mark that stood out on the girl’s unblemished skin, like a brand. 


	20. Prison

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone, sorry for the delay, college is kicking my ass. If any of you are in high school, do not take eighteen credits when you come to college. Just don't. 
> 
> This is a really long chapter (twenty-seven pages in google docs!) and I hope you all enjoy it. I've had it written for a while, but I just couldn't get the ending right. I still don't like it, but I think it is as good as I'm going to get. Thank you all for the feedback about Melody, it meant a lot to see so much interaction and know that people still love this story. More updates to come, and Daryl's POV next! 
> 
> Also, BIG NOTE!!! I do not hate the group or Maggie, nor am I trying to make you as a reader do so! I have always felt like Maggie might have been jealous of the way Beth was treated (and they mention in the show that Maggie and Beth's mother did not get along) and therefore their relationship might be a bit rocky, especially in a stressful situation. I also think that in this situation, the group would not trust Daryl as much as they did at this point in the show, since the last they saw him, he was that asshole back on the farm (still kind of is). Just wanted to note that I am not trying to villanize any of the group members, but its just how the storyline has naturally progressed as I've been writing. 
> 
> Love, bee

_ Beth tried to drag herself back to the surface, to claw at the side of the cliff she was falling off of, but Maggie’s gentle shushing in her ear and Rick’s now-gentle prodding made her slip, falling into nothing once more.  _

_ The last thing Beth had seen before she fell unconscious was Daryl gently tugging up Melody’s pajama shirt, and seeing the red mark that stood out on the girl’s unblemished skin, like a brand.  _

Beth's eyes opened to a bright, stinging light and the sound of someone humming somewhere to her left. The voice was deep and rough with disuse and the song itched someplace in the back of her mind, familiar and calming, but she couldn’t focus enough to place it. 

She kept her eyes clenched shut, trying to hide from the light and the pain that had bloomed around her temples. When she stretched out her fingers and toes she felt scratchy sheets, warm from her body heat. A spring dug into her back and as she shifted around to escape it, the bed under her gave a few impressive creaks. 

Her head felt as if it was filled to the brim with cotton, her thoughts fuzzy and distant and impossible to string together. She was warm, the kind of warm that lulled you back into sleep and felt best when you stretched out; it was peaceful, besides her headache. 

She stretched her hand out for Daryl, searching for his arm or shoulder to latch onto. She usually didn’t have to look far, he stayed close enough to her during the night that she could always reach out and touch him if she wanted to. 

Her hand only found dead air and the edge of cold sheets. 

Her heart sank a bit, stretching just a _ bit more  _ to see if he had just rolled over to the very edge of the bed. He did that occasionally when he was hot, balancing on the side of the mattress with his arm dangling down towards the floor. He hadn’t fallen off yet, but Beth was sure she’d wake up to a  _ thump  _ and a harsh  _ fucking hell _ one day if he wasn’t careful. 

The search was unsuccessful and she grumbled, rolling onto her back with a huff. The back of her head stung as she did so and she hissed through her teeth, her hand coming up to feel the curls there. They felt clean, though she didn’t remember showering, and the harsh stitches were new. 

_ Stitches?  _

Her eyes flung open and she pushed herself onto her elbows but her head and chest protested, the thump of her heart against her ribs searing and her eyes immediately blurring out of focus. Her eyes didn’t adjust completely, but she could still make out the fresh white cots lined up against one wall and the tray next to her covered in needles and blurry medications. 

She was in Woodbury’s infirmary, she knew it. The sharp smell of disinfectant and gauze stung her nose and she could feel the too-big bandage taped to her cheek and tugging at the corner of her eye. She struggled to sit up, fighting against her body’s protesting because she needed to get  _ out _ . The Governor would kill her and it wouldn’t be an easy death. She’d be put back into that arena, forced to fight someone who wouldn’t go easy on her, or maybe he’d saw her head off and keep it in a fish tank like a trophy. Maybe he’d keep her chained in a back room somewhere. 

“Easy, easy,” A voice said, deep and gentle, and warm hands pushed her shoulders back down onto the cot. She tried to push back, but the small rush of adrenaline had died out almost as soon as it had come and she felt the overwhelming urge to just close her eyes and go back to sleep. 

But she couldn’t sleep, not yet. 

“Daryl?” She whispered, the burn of disuse in her throat and nose hot and awful, causing the words to come out harsh and jagged. 

“He’s not here yet, June bug,” the voice whispered and the tones of it sent a sense of longing through Beth’s chest. Only one person had ever called her June bug. 

Her eyes slowly adjusted to the assaulting light, clearing up around the edges first. The sleep that had accumulated in her lashes burned her eyes. 

She could see the room she was in now, could see that it wasn’t Woodbury’s infirmary - it was too big. Lined with dozens of cots and curtains, giving off the feeling of abandonment and decay. The light came from a wall of windows to her left, covered with bars. A man sat on the chair beside her, his hair white and as pure as snow. His wrinkled face was covered with an unfamiliar beard but it didn’t hide the small smile that lingered there. 

His blue eyes scanned her face in a way Beth could only describe as desperate, taking in every one of her features. Their color was achingly familiar because she saw them every time she looked in a mirror.

“Daddy?” 

A hand came up to the side of her face, weathered and warm, and Beth felt a sob tear its way out of her throat. 

She flung herself at her father, wrapping her arms around his neck and digging her face into his shoulder and  _ sobbing _ . The cries burnt in her throat, but she ignored it. He caught her, his arms going around her back like they always did, his grip tight and  _ familiar _ . 

She had been quietly telling herself, maybe even promising, for a year that her father had made it out of the farm. The last she had seen him, she was being dragged off the front porch by Lori and Patricia and into the fields through the smell of acrid gunpowder and the sight of her daddy reloading his shotgun again and again. She had lost sight of him after tugging her arm from Patricia’s. 

She had been telling herself over and over that she would have  _ known  _ if her father had died, that the world would seem dark and gray without him in it. There was always something telling her that she couldn’t be sure, that crippling feeling of unease that settled into her spine and had to be scrapped out by doing something to take her mind off of things. She hadn’t known if he had never left that field, or if he was alone in the woods, or if he had been torn apart - screaming, like he did in her nightmares. 

Now, he was holding her like he always had, and Beth felt truly okay for the first time in a long while. She had felt disjointed and rough since the farm, like a teacup that was hastily put back together. Her father’s arms seemed to mend those cracks and scratches, almost like a balm to her wounds. 

So she cried, she held onto her daddy tight and cried until her throat ached and her head started to pound - because she  _ had him back.  _

_ _ “Don’t cry, honey,” He whispered and his hands rubbed her shoulders, warm and heavy. He didn’t smell the same, like hay and coffee, but her heart ached still. 

“I missed you, daddy,” She cried. 

“I missed you too,”

They held each other for a long time. Beth’s tears subsided into small sniffles after a while, but he still rubbed circles into her back, constant and warm. Her ribs twinged from being in such an awkward position, thrown onto her side, and stretched to try and reach him, but she didn’t care. 

She felt his hands move to her shoulders to push her back onto the bed and after he helped her into a more comfortable sitting position, he held her face in his hands, one of his thumbs grazing on her nose - the same nose that was on his face.

“Is that really you in there?” He whispered and Beth felt a shaky laugh bubble up from her throat because it wasn’t her anymore. She wasn’t the girl her daddy had known and raised - she looked the same, like her mother still, but inside Beth felt like she was another person entirely. But she wasn’t sure how to word that, so she lied. 

“I think so,” She said, cupping his hands that still rested on her cheeks, one pressed gently against the bandage that covered her right cheek. 

Would he like the new her? Could her daddy look her in the face after everything Beth had been through and still see his little girl underneath? She wasn’t sure if  _ she _ even liked the new her, untrusting and quiet after months of learning what the real world looked like - after she had learned how awful it could be. 

An itch in her chest made her want to break down and tell her dad everything, every moment and conversation that had happened in the span of twelve months, or was it thirteen now? Fourteen? She had no idea when the farm had fallen, only a sense of summer and heat, the winter that followed, and heat again. 

She wanted to tell him everything, to make him understand why she was the way she was now, how it was a good thing that she wasn’t the Beth he knew anymore. She was alive because of it. She was alive because of Daryl. 

_ Daryl. _

Her head whipped around the infirmary, searching for him in corners and eyesight, hidden like he always liked to be. The infirmary was empty beside her and her father, echoey and uncomfortable. 

Brief flashes of memories came back to her slowly. The smell of rotting water, the fighting pit, the stinging pain of the edge of Merle’s hand catching her cheek. That explained the bandage that poked at the corner of her eye. 

She remembered Daryl shooting the walker that grabbed at the back of her shirt, hugging her and… Wait, had they kissed? 

**Holy shit. **

Daryl Dixon had kissed her, and not just kissed her, he had  _ kissed _ her. She felt her cheeks flush, remembering the way his hands had gripped her neck, and the feeling of his skin pressed against hers -  _ he had kissed her _ . 

“Where’s Daryl?” It came out harsh and quick, but she looked back towards her dad to find him watching her carefully, his eyes distant.

“He’s not here yet.” 

Beth’s heart did a flip, wondering where ‘here’ was and why Daryl hadn’t come with her. She remembered getting out of Woodbury, Maggie’s hands on her shoulders. They had Melody with them, right? 

_ Rose. Oh no, Rose.  _ The image of the woman with blood pouring from the nasty wound in her neck came back to Beth, her eyes desperate and scared, pushing her baby towards them. 

Why weren’t Daryl and Melody here? 

“Why not?” She questioned, frantic, because why wouldn’t they have come with her? Had Rick not let them, and if so, why not? Had something happened while she was unconscious? Was Daryl hurt? A million questions rushed through her mind and she couldn’t settle on a single one, only the feelings of panic and confusion that had settled in her throat. 

The sound of a heavy metal door slamming caused Beth to whip her head around and she cringed in pain, her head spinning and aching. She heard her daddy shush her, his hand coming up to her neck, and then quick, heavy footsteps made their way to her cot. 

“You’re awake!” 

When the pain passed and Beth finally got to look at her sister, she wasn’t sure what to think. She looked the same, her hair a bit longer and her cheekbones a bit more pronounced, but there was something so  _ different _ about her sister that it irked Beth. She wondered if they felt the same about her. 

“How are you feeling?” Maggie asked, her hand coming up to feel Beth’s forehead. She wondered if she had a fever at some point. How long had she been out? It was night when she had passed out, though she didn’t know what time, so she only could have been asleep for a few hours, right? 

“How long have I been asleep?” Beth asked, pushing herself up completely. She wanted out of the bed. Her tailbone ached and her legs felt like weights attached to her body, needing blood flow. 

“Two days.” Her daddy answered, pulling the shabby blanket up around her waist. Beth almost told him she wasn’t cold, but she shut her mouth. She would let him fuss over her all he wanted. 

“Two days?” Beth started, she could understand Daryl and Melody’s absence if she had only been out for a few hours, but two days? Daryl wouldn’t have taken off with her by himself, he wouldn’t leave Beth without a proper reason, and she couldn’t think of one. 

“Why isn’t Daryl here yet? And Melody?” 

Maggie and her father shared a look, careful and cautious, and it set her off. It fueled the knot of feelings in her throat until they burned, because she was suddenly back in her room at the farmhouse, being prodded and tiptoed around like a child, surrounded by people who were scared to tell her the truth. 

“What are you two keeping from me? Why aren’t they here?” Beth questioned and pulled herself up, preparing to push herself off the bed and onto her feet when Maggie pushed her back down before she could even get a good start, “I want up,” she told her. 

“You’re still hurt,”

“I’m fine, I want  **up** !” 

“Beth, listen to Maggie -” 

“Let me get up,  **now** ,” 

She must have done something right because Maggie backed off enough for her to get up on her own. She only stumbled once when the blood rushed back into her head. Her eyes throbbed and she had to blink away the darkness that crept around the edges, but she stayed upright. 

Maggie’s hand held onto her elbow, keeping her steady. 

Her attention was caught by her daddy grasping at a set of crutches she hadn’t noticed leaning against her bed. He used the chair as leverage, clumsily pushing the crutches underfoot. 

“Did you hurt your leg?” She asked, adjusting her footing and grip onto Maggie, ignoring the lightheaded feeling that caused her back to break out into a sweat. 

He let out a gentle laugh, slowly making his way to the foot of the bed. 

“Something like that.” He sighed. 

There wasn’t a leg there, an empty pant leg swaying as he stopped in front of them. 

Beth could feel her mouth open, but no sound came out. 

“I’ll explain later, Bethie,” He sighed, adjusting his grip, “how about we get you something to eat?” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Beth was seated at what seemed like an old card table, the metal folding chair beneath her hard and cold. A cup of dusty-tasting tea and a plate of beans and rice sat in front of her. She hadn’t eaten anything yet, she felt too nauseous and tired to do much else besides let her eyes unfocus on random points in the cafeteria. 

The prison felt cold and unwelcome, the steel bars covering the windows and the cement floors made her feel empty and watched. Beth found it ironic, that she and Daryl had passed by this place so long ago - pushing it to the back of their minds and moving on. Her family had been here the entire time. Would she have gone in if she had known who was inside the fences? 

The prison was empty, almost dead-feeling, and the occasional smell of rot lingered in Beth’s nostrils and caused her to flinch. She had been covered in that smell not long ago. She wondered briefly who had bathed her and how - she hoped it was Maggie - but she was now in a set of too-big sweatpants and a soft t-shirt. She smelled like standard soap and her hair was frizzy from sleeping on it wet. The bruises that she could see were turning a nasty purple and yellow color. She wondered what her face looked like under all those bandages. 

Her mind was too loud to process much, too many questions and doubts running through her head. It had already hurt, now it ached. She watched her dad hobble back towards the table she and Maggie were seated at, another cup of tea held carefully in his hand. He seemed extra careful to make sure he didn’t spill anything. 

“That was her name? Melody?” Maggie asked and Beth had to ask her to repeat herself, and when Maggie did Beth’s heart clenched again. 

An image of Melody twirling in their apartment came back to her, wearing sparkling Mary-Janes and a moldy princess dress one of Rose’s friends had found on a run for her. The memory of her twinkling giggle caused Beth’s head to hurt even more/ 

“Yes, her name was Melody. She was five.” Beth whispered, cleaning her throat in an attempt to dislodge the knot that had formed there. 

Maggie made a face, looking back down into her tea. She didn’t say anything else after that, she hadn’t since she had told her what had happened outside of Woodbury. 

After Beth had passed out, Oscar and Axel - who Beth had been told were prisoners they had found locked in the kitchen, had noticed Daryl whispering frantically to the girl and had gone over to ask if Melody had been hurt - then they saw the bite mark on the little girl’s stomach. 

Melody had been bit, and Beth’s chest ached so much that it rivaled her head. She hadn’t cried, she had cried too much after reuniting with her father - it just  _ hurt.  _ Melody had been a baby, so happy and trusting, and the world had punished her for it. 

Rose had trusted Daryl and Beth enough to hand off her only child in an attempt to save her - whether she knew the girl had been bit or not - and Melody hadn’t even made it out of the gates without being handed a death sentence. 

And Daryl was all alone, taking her off into the woods with Gus to  _ wait it out _ , as Maggie had told her. He said he would follow after them, and that was two days ago. There had been no sign of Daryl at the gates. 

Daryl didn’t deserve to go through that alone, no one did, to watch the fever consume someone and their skin turn red and flaky - Beth had watched it happen to her mother. He was alone, and Beth couldn’t be there for him, or for Melody. She wasn’t there when they needed her the most, and Beth couldn’t help but feel guilty. He was God knows where watching a little girl die - or had he ended it quickly? 

She startled when her father set his mug down onto the table, settling down into the chair to her right. Maggie sat across from her, quiet. 

It nearly felt uncomfortable, stifling, almost, to be sitting so peacefully when so much had gone wrong. Of course, it had only gone wrong to Beth. Her father hadn’t been there and Maggie didn’t seem to care, only feeling slightly sad that a child was dead. Something was only wrong in Beth’s world, not theirs. 

They had gotten Beth back, but Beth had lost nearly everything past the gates of Woodbury, unconscious and unaware. 

Her daddy’s voice startled her, “You need to eat, honey.” 

She nodded, picking up the spoon and pushing the food around on her plate, not ready to bring it up to her mouth. The thought of it made her feel sick. 

Maggie cleared her throat and her father shuffled in his seat, and Beth suddenly wondered if she was the one making it uncomfortable. 

_ I’m about to make it worse, _ she thought. Because she  _ needed _ to ask, it had been haunting her for months. The million-dollar question. She could just not ask it, accept that she finally had her family back, and move on, but she couldn’t. This Beth, the new one, couldn’t move on without hearing the answer from their mouths. 

“Why didn’t you guys stay at the highway?” She whispered, her eyes unfocused on the steam rising from her father’s cup. She put the spoon back down onto her plate, unwilling to eat. Worry filled her stomach instead. 

Her question seemed to startle both of them into silence because neither answered. Maggie still peered into her mug, like the tea leaves at the bottom would give her the answers to life’s secrets, her father merely looked at her like he was disappointed - in himself or her, she wasn’t sure. 

“Why didn’t you wait for us?” She asked again, her hands falling into her lap, clenching. Her knuckles were bruised from her and Merle’s fight, she wondered if his were too - if he was okay. Another thing she had lost. 

Maggie sighed, “We wanted to wait for you, Beth, but Rick wanted to move and he wouldn’t let us stay behind to wait for you.” 

_ You weren’t important enough to risk the group.  _

That didn’t make sense though, because they hadn’t waited for Daryl, had they? Daryl was important, he could hunt and fight and was a walking, talking field guide for the Georgia woods. He wasn’t someone you would want to leave behind, so why did they? 

_ _ “And Daryl? He’s the best hunter and fighter out of all of us, why didn’t you wait for him? He would have helped you.” 

Maggie seemed to search for her words before speaking, but the two sisters never broke eye contact. Beth watched as her face turned harsh and rigid, almost like she had eaten something nasty. 

“He always liked running off, we couldn’t even be sure he was coming.” 

_ Better than me, they probably thought I ran off first chance I got,  _ he said.  _ _

Beth’s eyes stung and her throat burned, but she didn’t feel tears track down her face. She was just  _ angry _ . She honestly didn’t care that her family had thought she was dead, not anymore. If she had been in their shoes she would have thought she was dead too, but it was how they thought of Daryl that sent her towards the edge. 

He had fought for them, hunted for them, and kept them all fed even after they had chained Merle to a rooftop and treated them both like outsiders. He had searched for that little girl for  _ weeks _ , not coming back for days at a time. He almost  _ died _ . He deserved better, and they didn’t have the grace to wait an hour or two? 

“So you just blindly followed Rick’s orders? You didn’t care if either of us were alive?” She questioned, barely keeping the obvious anger out of her voice. 

She felt a hand engulf her own and she looked over to see her father still looking at her, tears in his eyes. When he spoke, his words were thick and sorrowful. 

“We wanted to stay, June bug, I wanted to come back, to see if anyone else had made it. You have no idea how hard it was to leave you behind.” 

And Beth suddenly felt guilty, even if it was overtaken by the burn of anger in her chest. How would she feel leaving her child behind? To have to give up on them for the betterment of the other people with her? That would hurt, and she couldn’t imagine how her father had felt walking away from the highway. 

But they had still left her, thinking she was dead. They had blatantly given up on Daryl, no matter how much he had helped them. She didn’t think those hurts would ever completely heal. 

“You still left,” She whispered, tears finally coming to her eyes. She tried to blink them away, not wanting to make him feel bad, but the sense of abandonment that had sprouted in her chest since the highway had crawled into her throat and it  _ burned _ . 

“We did, and I am so sorry June bug, if I had the power to change it all I would.” 

She nodded, reaching up to wipe the tears from her cheek. She gripped her father’s hand, trying and failing to give him a small smile, “We’re all here now, that’s all that matters.” 

“I’m sorry you weren’t here sooner.” He said honestly, and she knew he was. 

A door opened and closed somewhere behind her and small footsteps echoed throughout the dining hall, a familiar voice shook Beth out of her thoughts. 

“Beth? You’re awake!” 

Carl ran up to the table, a few inches taller and as lanky as a string bean. His hair was past his ears but his face still held its baby fat, covered in freckles - Beth felt her heart constrict painfully. He was still a baby too. 

“Hey, kid,” She heard herself say, and Carl gave her a flashing smile. 

She had spoken to him a few times while on the farm, he was a sweet kid, too curious for his own good if what Daryl had told her about Carl taking his gun meant anything, but Beth only wished that he didn’t have to grow up in a world like this. 

“I’m glad you're awake, I wanted to show you Judith before she fell asleep again!” He smiled again - but Beth noticed it didn’t entirely reach his eyes. He disappeared off into a cell block to their right, yelling at her to stay there as he went. 

“Judith?” She questioned, eyebrows raised. Was there a new group member she didn’t know about? She knew about Oscar and Axel, but they came with the prison. She couldn’t for the life of her remember a Judith. 

“Lori’s baby,” Maggie told her, lips pursed and hands clenched around her mug. Beth’s heart lept a bit, she remembered Daryl telling her there had been a baby when he had scouted the prison. She had to be a month or two old by now. 

“Oh, how’s Lori?” She wondered, because she couldn’t imagine childbirth without a hospital and doctors - even if her father was a vet, humans were a different beast. 

The table got cold and Beth suddenly wondered what she had said, but Carl’s quick boot falls echoed throughout the mess hall before she could question the sudden change of mood. 

He adjusted a small bundle in his arms, talking quietly to the baby within. He stopped in between her father and Beth’s chair, scooting close enough to Beth so that she could look into the blankets. She pulled the edge of the blanket back to see pale, soft skin and tufts of blonde hair. Her eyes were a deep brown, Lori’s color. 

Beth felt a small smile come to her face, even if she didn’t mean for it to. She was so tiny and fragile-looking, her eyes big and curious. A baby was a good thing in the old world, something to coddle and love - but what about now? Beth tried to find a sense of hope, hope that Judith could grow up coveted and loved like she would have in a normal world, but she couldn’t find it. 

“She’s beautiful,” Beth told him and Carl gave her another smile, there was just something inherently  _ sad  _ about it that Beth couldn’t place. Maggie shifted uncomfortably next to her. 

“Her middle name is Elizabeth,” Carl said, rocking her when she started to fuss - Beth could tell he would be a good big brother, “She has blonde hair like you, so I thought…” 

Beth felt her cheeks warm a bit, she was sure anyone who had just been told a tiny  _ human _ had been named after them would react similarly, but she was overtaken with a thought that sounded a lot like Daryl. 

_ They definitely thought you were dead, they named a kid after you.  _

But Beth just smiled instead, running her fingers across the baby’s cheek. The girl gurgled and everyone at the table smiled, no one could resist a baby, it seemed. She wanted to see it when Daryl met the tiny baby for the first time - kind of desperately, actually. She had the sneaking suspicion that he had a soft spot for children. 

_ And now he’s out there alone watching one rot and die, while you’re here, petting a baby and drinking tea.  _

That kickstarted Beth, causing her to shift uncomfortably and remove her hand from Judith’s cheek. She cleared her throat. 

“She’s adorable, Carl, thank you for showing me - you should take her back to your mom,” 

Carl stiffened and his eyes took on a glazed, awful look that Beth never wanted to see on the boy again, and her heart sank to her feet. Lori wasn’t here.  _ Well, shit, now you’ve done it.  _

“I’m sorry, Carl, I didn’t -” She stumbled, trying to mop up the mess she had just made for herself but just Carl gave her a smile that looked forced, and adjusting his baby sister carefully, he shrugged.

“It’s alright, you couldn’t’ve known,” He smiled when the little girl reached out of her blankets in the direction of Beth, “I think she likes you, though,” 

They both shared smiles as he walked back into the cell block, Beth’s a bit more uncomfortable and forced. Her heart ached for Carl, even if she felt like her heart couldn’t possibly ache anymore. She suddenly felt the urge to wrap her arms around herself to keep her chest in one piece, almost like she would collapse into pieces if she didn’t. 

But she couldn’t mourn for Lori or worry about Carl losing his mother because Daryl was alive somewhere, alone and going through hell. She stood up, causing her father and Maggie to startle out of their thoughts. 

“You didn’t eat,” Maggie told her, like Beth didn’t see the whole plate of food sitting in front of her face, but Beth shrugged it off.

“I need to go find Daryl,” she told them, moving to step around her father’s chair and towards the door she thought they came from. She didn’t have her bow, or her hunting knife - but there had to be something laying around somewhere in this place that she could swipe. 

Maggie stumbled out of her chair, making her way around the table to grab Beth by the elbow before she could jump out of her way - her father hadn’t even fully latched onto his crutches yet. 

“He said he was coming after, he’s fine,” Maggie told her, her grip on her arm tight and hot. Beth didn’t like the thought of  _ after. _ After Melody was dead, he would come. 

“I’ve been asleep for two days, I want to know if he’s okay,” She asserted, yanking her arm away and moving towards the door again. Her tailbone didn’t hurt anymore and her head was only an annoying throb at the base of her skull. 

“It’s Dixon, he could live off a rusty spoon and a piece of floss - he’ll come, you just need to rest.” Maggie told her and a laugh nearly bubbled up in Beth’s throat - because that was the funniest thing she had heard in a while, also probably true, but she swallowed the laugh all the same. 

Beth could just barely remember where this prison was in relation to the woods around Woodbury. It was off exit three on the highway, she and Daryl had followed the railroad tracks to an old diner, then the movie store they had run into Merle at. Woodbury was a couple hours walk to the - left of the movie store? That sounded right. 

But Beth couldn’t be sure where he had taken Melody, he could be anywhere in the woods between the two, and Beth was still horrible at tracking. She heard her sister call after her, close on her heels, but Beth was just happy that she had made the right choice in directions, because she had suddenly made it back to the infirmary after a few minutes of narrowly skirting past her sister’s grasp and running into deadends. 

Maggie was quick to follow her towards her cot, blazing and angry. Beth ignored her, searching the tables for her knife - knives, actually. Daryl had given her one of his hunting knives, hadn’t he? 

Beth only looked up at the sound of her daddy’s crutches, haunting against the cement floor. Beth continued to search the floor surrounding her cot, her clothes were nowhere to be found - she didn’t really care about what she had been wearing, but she needed the knife back - she needed to hand it back to Daryl himself. 

Her father’s voice came from above the cot, the one she was almost fully under in an attempt to find anything she had come to the prison wearing. God, did they burn it? 

“He’s an adult, Bethie, he can take care of himself,” Her father told her, stern but tired. She could feel Magggie vibrating with anger somewhere behind her, staring into her back, but she was glad her father wasn’t putting up too much of a fight. 

She had heard about when he got angry, truly angry, before she had been born, and she didn’t want to see it for herself. Her mother’s stories were enough for her. Maybe if she acted frantic enough, he’d let her go. 

“I know he can,  **I ** need to know that he’s okay.” She told him, cringing when she tugged a rib the wrong way. She pushed herself back onto her feet to see she had been right, her father stood calmly on the other side of the bed, watching her. Maggie paced to the left, her fists clenched.

She stopped and swung around to face Beth, “You just got back Beth, we don’t need you running off and getting lost looking for Dixon!” 

“I’m not going to get lost!” She said, even if it was a lie, but she continued anyway, “And he would do the same for me.” 

Because he would. Daryl would already be out searching for her, he would be out searching for anyone - because that was just the kind of person he was.  Beth loved him, and she was going to make sure he got back to her safe. 

“Would he now?” Maggie chided, and Beth backtracked at her voice - it was that awful, condescending tone she had always taken since Beth was a kid, when she thought Beth was just the stupidest person in the world and needed to be smacked. 

Beth had changed, but it seemed like her older sister had stayed the same in their time apart. She felt the anger only reserved for siblings bubble up in her chest, blinding and irrational, because what did  _ would he now _ mean?

“What’s with your tone?” She spat, tossing the random towel she had grabbed from under the cot onto the mattress. Her fists clenched at her sides and she felt her cheeks flush in anger. 

Who was she to think that Maggie could treat her like anything other than a child? This was exactly like it had been at the farm, Maggie pummeling into her and treating her like she was a stupid girl while her father looked on and did nothing - it had been like that since Beth was born. 

“You know exactly what I’m saying, don’t play dumb,” Maggie told her, crossing her arms across her chest and stomping her foot - resembling a child about to throw a tantrum. 

“I’m not playing dumb at anything!” Beth shouted, and when the echo came back and smacked her in the face she realized just how loud their argument was getting. She didn’t care though. 

“So you’re telling me the entire time you two were alone, he just gladly took care of you? He didn’t once -” She cut Maggie off before she could finish her sentence, her finger pointed at Maggie’s chest. Because she knew what Maggie was implying, and she was going to kill it before Maggie even finished her thought. Daryl would  _ never _ . 

Beth also considered the fact that her sister thought Daryl had taken care of her the entire time and never the way around, that Beth would have to barter her own life because she was so useless, that added a whole other layer to Beth’s anger. 

“You don’t know him like I do. He would  _ never _ -” Beth shouted, but her sister cut her off, stepping closer. Maggie’s face was red and her hands were still clenched. 

“And how is that, Beth? Do you know him well? I’m sure all he had to do was say a few nice things and then you -”

** “Fuck you!”** Beth shouted, and Maggie’s face flushed even redder than before - because Beth never cursed, at least, not then. Before she could step closer to her sister (or lunge, whichever happened first) her daddy’s voice interrupted them, booming and final. 

“Alright, you two! That’s ** enough** !” He chastised, making his way around the cot to stand in between them. Beth felt a sense of deja vu, it was like it had always been. She wondered if her father was about to send them both to their rooms without dinner. 

“Both of you are going to calm down, right now.” He said, one hand held out between them (as if he could stop them if they lunged at each other, like they had before) and the other balancing on his crutches. 

Their breaths were labored from yelling and Beth unclenched her fists, flexing her fingers when they cramped up. She and Maggie held eye contact, and Beth suddenly felt like she was looking down the nose of a bull. 

Beth heard distant shuffling near the hallway, but ignored it in favor of keeping eye contact. If she dropped first, she felt like she was admitting defeat - and Maggie wasn’t winning this. 

The shuffling came closer and someone cleared their throat. Maggie’s eyes left hers, and Beth felt like she could breathe again. She felt blood rush to her cheeks and she let out a whooshing breath, ignoring her father’s eyes. 

Is that really what Maggie thought? Not just that Daryl would even dare do something like that - to barter her safety for… whatever - but that Beth would do it? Her big sister really thought that the only way Beth could survive was to essentially sell herself? 

Beth wasn’t sure if her nausea was from her injuries anymore.

“What is it, Glenn?” Maggie spat, jaw clenched, and Beth saw Glenn flinch - in fear, she assumed. No one liked to be on the end of Maggie Greene’s anger. Beth shuffled awkwardly, still processing, but she dodged her father’s arm that was outstretched. She shook her head, not wanting his coddling. 

“I… uh -” Glenn stumbled, and he took too long to respond for Beth, the implications of what Maggie had said to her overshadowing politeness. 

“Spit it out, Glenn.” She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. Her headache was back from all of the yelling. 

She heard Maggie hiss at her words but ignored them, because the next thing out of Glenn’s mouth sent her scrambling over the cot and out the door.

“Daryl’s at the gate, I thought Beth -” 

She didn’t hear the last bit, she was already brushing past him and sliding around the corner. They hadn’t given her boots back yet, so her socks gave her little traction, but she still made it down the hallway without falling on her ass. 

“Be careful running!” She heard her father shout, but she breezed down the hallway and into an unfamiliar part of the prison. 

She had no idea how to get to the gate. 

She slid, grasping onto the wall for support right as a woman rounded the corner, nearly smacking into her. The woman gave a shout, grabbing onto her chest in shock. 

Her hair was a bit longer, but Beth immediately recognized Carol. 

“Beth! What’s wrong?” She asked, and Beth struggled to gasp out a few words. She had ran farther than she thought and her body wasn’t enjoying it, her legs ached and for some reason, her lower back burned. She blitzed past Carol, but obviously got her point across, because the woman pointed towards a door hiding in the corner of the weird atrium-like room she was in. 

Beth slammed into the door, flinging it open and ignoring it as it hit the cement wall behind it. She could hear loud bootfalls behind her, she assumed it was Maggie or Glenn trying to keep up with her. 

The sun burnt her eyes and she immediately moved to cover them, cringing. After she adjusted just enough, she could make out fenced fields and the pavement that led down to the gate. She could see a few figures standing around the fences, but couldn’t make out who was who. 

She kept running, ignoring the burning in her chest and the heaviness of her legs because she needed to  _ see  _ him. She needed to know that he was okay. 

She stopped before she got to the gate, gulping in harsh gasps of air and trying to distinguish what was going on through the blurriness of her vision. She heard someone running up behind and turned to see Carl slow down just beside her. 

“You okay?” He asked, eyebrows scrunched. She nodded, still trying to catch her breath and get her eyes to focus. 

Carl reached out to touch her shoulder then but she held her hand up, taking her hands off her knees and standing back up straight. She was  **not ** going to pass out before he made it through the gates. 

“I’m okay.” She told him, and the boy nodded before stepping back. They both turned to watch what was going on in front of them. 

Rick - and who she assumed was either Axel or Oscar, stood directly in front of Daryl, blocking him from Beth’s view and she huffed. When she stood on her tiptoes, she could make out the top of Daryl’s head. 

Rick stepped aside and Beth could finally see him. His clothes were dirtier than she remembered, his hair tangled instead of curled. He spoke quietly with Rick, his eyes downcast. It seemed he hadn’t noticed her running, she wasn’t sure if she was grateful for that or not. 

She watched him nod and hold his hands up, almost like he was surrendering. She was confused for a brief moment, until Oscar (Axel?) started patting him down. 

Anger flared up out of nowhere, not as hot as it had been earlier with Maggie, but it settled in Beth’s throat and stayed there. They were  _ patting him down _ ? What was he gonna do, kill them all with a pocket knife and steal off into the night? Were they that distrustful of him? Was she patted down for weapons when she was unconscious? 

They obviously found nothing, because Rick nodded and gestured for one of the two (damn, she’d need to learn their names) to open the gate. A few walkers stumbled towards them, but they were too far away to be much of a threat. 

Rick helped Daryl carry in their backpacks, Axel (Oscar?) carried Daryl’s bow. Gus followed in after Daryl, panting. Beth could breathe easier knowing the dog was okay too. 

“Woah, I didn’t know you guys had a dog! What’s his name?” Carl said, bouncing on his heels as he eyed Gus. Beth ignored the kid in favor of scooting slowly towards the gate, waiting for them to bypass the second layer before making her way towards Daryl. 

Gus spotted her first, his tail speeding up and his butt starting to wiggle. He bounced a few times and then released a loud bark, it echoed into the woods surrounding the prison, but it still brought a smile to Beth’s face. 

This close, she could see the bags under his eyes and the mud covering his arms, almost up to his elbow. If she looked close enough, she swore she could see blood mixed in. She tried not to think about the blood. 

He hushed the dog and finally looked up to see what he was barking at, their eyes met, and Beth took off towards him.

He must have dropped the backpack before she got to him, because he caught her with both arms and only a small  _ oomph!  _ She latched onto the back of his shirt and dug her head into his shoulder, finally noticing that tears burnt her eyes and soaked into his shirt. 

He held her for a while, his face in her hair. They didn’t say anything, but Beth thought they didn’t really need to. 

She had  _ him back _ , she knew he was safe and alive.  _ He came back to her.  _ Even if Beth was out for two days, it was the longest they had been away from each other in a year, and she was ever grateful to have him back. 

He was warm, even in the evening sun. He started tugging her arms from around his neck but she readjusted, pulling him closer. She wasn’t sure if she needed to hold him, or if she felt like he just needed to be held. 

“I missed you.” She whispered, mostly into his shirt, but he heard it. 

“I heard you were out for most of it.” He told her, and when she brought her head up from his shoulder he gave her a small, tired smile - he looked really tired. 

Beth searched his face, unsure of what she was looking for, but just looking for  _ something _ . She found it in his eyes, because even if he was smiling at her, his eyes were dead, and not just generally dead, like he was just bone-tired, the look was directed at  **her. **

He dropped her arms suddenly, stepping back a few feet, and Beth shivered at how cold she suddenly got. He looked towards the ground and Beth felt like there was twenty feet between them instead of two. Gus slammed into her legs, having waited long enough for his turn, but Beth couldn’t bring herself to reach down and pat the dog on the head. 

Daryl hadn’t looked at her like that since the highway, and she was suddenly unsure if the man standing before her was  _ her _ Daryl. No, the man standing in front of her was Daryl Dixon, and Beth’s heart fell at her feet. 


	21. Melody

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, everyone! 
> 
> I am officially on winter break and finished with my third semester of college. A little fun fact about me, I'm a double major in forensic anthropology and psychology, minoring in cybersecurity! I'm teetering back and forth between swapping to pre-med, but my future is unclear at the moment. I'm glad it's over with, to be honest, and expect lots of updates during break!   
I really hope I didn't mess up this chapter too much, it's surprisingly hard to write Daryl in the style that I write, since I think he wouldn't be as descriptive of a narrator as Beth is and I also have to keep him at least a little in character.This is also hard because of the chapter content and the ending, because writing Daryl's emotions sucks ass. I hope I did good by you guys, and THANK YOU SO MUCH for all of the love and support in the comments and kudos. You have no idea how much they mean to me and make my day, my week even. Sometime soon, I'm going to get around to replying to all of you because you guys deserve it. 
> 
> Thank you guys for being the best and being patient with me, I wish you and your loved ones a safe and happy holidays. 
> 
> Love, bee.

**TRIGGER WARNING: CHILD DEATH **

_ Daryl hadn’t looked at her like that since the highway, and she was suddenly unsure if the man standing before her was her Daryl. No, the man standing in front of her was Daryl Dixon, and Beth’s heart fell at her feet. _

Daryl watched quietly as Rick and Maggie poked and prodded at a few of Beth’s wounds. Her shoulders swayed without someone holding her up and her eyes looked like they were about to roll into the back of her head. He kept his distance, even if it took everything in him to do so. Beth’s sister was with her now and she didn’t need him to only get in the way. 

He felt a little ashamed that he hadn’t noticed the obscene amount of blood covering Beth when he had first seen her - he wasn’t even sure if most of it was hers. Her hair was matted with blood and dirt, especially the back, and an awful gash marked her cheek, under her right eye. Dirt streaked up her arms and legs, her jeans torn at the knees. Her nose looked like it had been bleeding and there were bruises around her eyes, faint, but growing worse as the minutes passed. 

What the fuck had happened? Had Merle done all of this to her, or had it been someone else? Some of the blood looked too old to be from - whatever they had Merle and her tied up in - that arena. He didn’t know if he had the mind to process what he had cut them both from back there just yet. 

He felt more than a little ashamed, actually, he felt awful. He should have checked on her immediately when he saw her - but she was  _ there _ and  _ alive _ and he hadn’t thought of anything else but touching her to make sure she was real. She had run off into Woodbury and never came back, and Daryl had the right to begin to think that something awful might have happened to her. Because even if Beth was Beth and she was stubborn, there are some things that people couldn’t fight their way out of. 

He had stood next to that oak tree next to the Atlanta group for hours, waiting for her to come out, all while picturing things that could have happened to her - shot or hurt somewhere that he couldn’t get to her. He didn’t know what he would do to himself if he knew that she had died because he sent her somewhere, somewhere he thought had been safe. 

Obviously, wherever that had been had been hell. 

Her head lolled back, but her eyes stayed open, glassy and flickering between him and her sister. She wouldn’t make it back to the trucks without someone carrying her, God only knew how far away they parked. He crept a bit closer behind Rick, dragging Melody with him. The girl’s hand was warm, a bit warmer than usual, but he figured the kid was scared shitless. 

He should have been focusing on the kid, her mom had just abandoned her to go die, for fucks sake, but his eyes locked on Beth and he couldn’t stop himself from stepping forward and opening his mouth. 

“I’ll carry her,” He said, his voice coming out rougher than he expected - he figured it was lack of water. He hadn’t drank anything since dinner two days before and he could feel a headache throbbing in the back of his head. When had he slept last? Three days ago? He couldn’t remember. 

Beth turned towards his voice, her hand stretching out towards him a bit - she was delirious - and he almost let go of the kid’s hand to reach out and pull her to her feet when Maggie’s hissing voice came from his left. 

“You’re not touching her,” 

It was harsh and shrill - making him nearly cringe. He held his hand up in surrender and stepped back - he wasn’t going to get into a mess he didn’t want any part of. He had tried his damndest to avoid Maggie Greene on the farm, and he would try his damndest now. 

All he cared about was getting Beth to her dad and for her to get better - he didn’t care if someone else had to carry her - as long as she got there. 

He would think about Maggie’s tone later. 

Beth fell unconscious into her sister’s arms - and a tiny voice pulled him away from watching Glenn rush forward to help Rick pick her up. She wasn’t entirely unconscious yet - he could see her eyes occasionally crack open, which was good because Daryl knew from experience that if you went unconscious after a hit to the head, it was a bad thing. 

Had Merle really hit her that hard? She had a massive cut on the back of her head, he had felt it - had he really swiped at her while her back was turned? And with what? 

“Daryl?” Melody whispered and Daryl nearly didn’t catch it over the sound of everyone talking about how they would get Beth all the way to the car. He nearly offered again - because he seemed to be the only one strong enough to carry her that far, but he held his tongue. 

“What?”

“My tummy hurts,” 

“Why does your tummy hurt?” He questioned, but his eyes still flicked back to Beth, lying on the dirt. covered in blood. Her eyes were closed and her breathing was harsh, the cut on her face kept bleeding. Hadn’t Beth told him that face wounds bled a lot? It was deep. It would scar. 

Daryl scrunched his face up in frustration, trying not to take it out on Melody’s tiny hand in his. It  _ hurt  _ to not help Beth, his heart felt like it was beating too fast and there was a lump in his throat that he couldn’t swallow. She would be fine, he knew, but it still scared the fuck out of him. 

“One of those gross people bit me,” Melody whispered, playing with the edge of her pajamas. And Daryl’s stomach dropped out of his ass and his palms started to sweat. 

The kid was kidding, right? She didn’t know what that meant, there was no fucking way Rose wouldn’t have noticed. She wouldn’t have given Melody to them knowing she was bit, right? The kid wasn’t even probably bit in the first place, she  _ couldn’t  _ be. 

“You sure?” His voice cracked and he winced, kneeling down into the dirt to look at the kid at eye level. Her pajamas, flannel, and polar bear themed were covered in blood, but he had just assumed it had been her mother’s. The kid hadn’t cried the entire time they had dragged her away from her mother, not even when Beth had collapsed, and it was freaking Daryl out. She just  _ stared _ , like she didn’t know what was happening. 

“Where did they bite you?” He whispered, reaching up to wipe some blood off of her cheek. It didn’t come off. 

“My stomach,” 

He nodded, reaching down to pull up the little girl’s nightshirt just enough to see her belly button, fresh blood dripped onto his hand as he did, and Daryl felt something in him shrivel up and just  ** _die_ ** , right there. 

A bite mark marked her stomach, deep and rough around the edges. Blood sluggishly flowed onto her shirt and bottoms, and now that he looked down at himself, he saw that his own shirt was covered in Melody’s blood.

_ Jesus fucking Christ. _

He heard Maggie let out a string of curses and a few of the others murmur in shock and he moved to push Melody away from them, away from their view. They wouldn’t kill a little girl when she was still conscious, right? He couldn’t imagine Rick holding a gun to Melody’s head, but the instinct was still there. 

When he looked back, it wasn't eyes on him and the kid, it was Beth. She had completely passed out, just like he had thought she would. She had been stumbling since he had gotten her out of those chains and the nasty wound on the back of her head looked like it needed stitches. 

“Daryl?” Melody whispered, trying to get his attention - and he heard her, but his eyes had unfocused into the trees behind her and he didn’t know what to do. 

_ You always know what to do, get your shit together. _

But Daryl continued to slip into the blurriness, quiet and dark, what had that high school counselor called it?  _ Disassociating.  _

He didn’t hear the footsteps crunching on the gravel behind them, only startling when a hand landed on his shoulder. He jerked, pushing the kid away from whoever had touched him. His eyes suddenly came back into focus and it was like his heart had started again - pounding in his throat and behind his eyes. 

The other random guy Daryl hadn’t bothered to learn the name of yet was behind him, holding his hands up in defense. He was dressed in a blue jumpsuit and had the stupidest fucking mustache Daryl had ever seen growing on his face, almost looking like a shitty comic book character.

“Woah, woah! Easy there, brother, are you alright?” He asked, his accent so thick that Daryl could just barely understand him. Maybe it was just that he was so used to Beth’s clean-cut Georgia accent or he was so out of it he just didn’t understand - but he had no idea what the man had just said to him. 

“Daryl, it hurts,” The kid whimpered and he tensed when the guy kneeled down next to them, reaching out to touch her. 

_ That _ brought Daryl back and he snatched the guy’s hand away before it could touch her shoulder, gripping his wrist and throwing it back down into his side. 

“Don’t touch her!”

The man backed up again, about to open his mouth to apologize when his eyes slid down to Melody’s stomach - where she was holding her shirt up. 

_ “ Woah!”  _ He shouted, throwing himself onto his side and scooting away - Daryl had the headspace to think it was a bit dramatic - it wasn’t like the kid had reached out to gnaw on his fucking arm. 

_ She will though, she’s dead.  _

Dammit, all to hell. 

Every head turned at the sound of the guy’s dramatics and Melody let out a sob, grabbing onto Daryl’s sleeve. 

The man had thrown up his gun, pointing right at them. 

It was an automatic reaction Daryl should have resisted - but he dropped Melody’s hand and pulled his bow up - aiming the mechanism at the man’s forehead. His head reeled from standing up so quickly and the kid latched onto his leg and dug her face into his jeans, crying. 

He heard a quiet  _ oh, fuck _ \- it might have been Glenn, but he couldn’t have been sure. 

“Put it  _ down _ .” He spat and Gus growled behind him, nudging his leg with his shoulder. The man’s hand shook, and the pistol slipped out of his hand and bounced on the gravel. 

There was some shuffling and quiet whispers, and Daryl only pulled his eyes away when a familiar gait walked closer. 

“How about you put down yours too?” Rick whispered, pushing the front of Daryl’s bow down to his hip. Oh, how Daryl hated that fucking tone he had. Daryl didn’t need the  _ I’m a good cop  _ voice right now. 

“I am calm! He’s the one holding a gun at our heads!” 

“He has a good reason, Daryl, she’s bit.” Rick said, his voice raising a bit. His eyes flickered from Daryl’s to Melody, hidden in his jeans. 

“She can’t come with us,” Rick concluded. He looked a lot older than Daryl remembered. 

Anger burned in Daryl’s chest then, because what was he supposed to do? Point his bow at the girl’s forehead and put her down? He couldn’t - he  _ wouldn’t _ . There were a lot of things Daryl was willing to do to survive, to make sure Beth survived - but that wasn’t one of them. 

Rick offered no input - like Daryl would have wanted it if he did- but Daryl knew what he had to do now. 

He swallowed roughly before speaking, not looking away from the sheriff, “We’ll come in a few, go on without us.” 

Rick seemingly thought this through, like he had a better fucking plan, or was about to throw a hissy over Daryl’s wording. Daryl knew what he had said, and he wasn’t going to scare Melody anymore than she already was. 

The man finally nodded, checking that Daryl knew his way to the prison before walking back towards the others - who all looked at him with varying degrees of pity or blank stares. 

Daryl swept Melody up into his arms, shushing her as she buried her face into his neck, still sniffling. He felt more blood soak into his shirt. 

He watched as Rick and the man he had knocked out - Oscar? Maybe? He didn’t care - pulled Beth up and carried her roughly towards the woods on the other side of the road they were on, away from him. 

He had to leave her again - and Daryl suddenly felt like crying. 

Glenn stumbled towards him, but stopped a few feet away, looking unsure of himself. His face was a mixture of black and blue, one of his eyes swollen shut and his lips cut. Daryl felt sick at the thought of Merle doing  _ that _ . 

“Um.. do you need…? Do you want me to -” 

He was offering to come with him, to help him, and Daryl suddenly felt grateful for how nice a person Glenn had always been - no matter what. But he shook his head, cutting him off. He needed to do this by himself. 

“I’m fine.” 

Glenn nodded, turning back to scurry after the group. Daryl caught the last flicker of Beth’s golden hair behind the trees, and he felt empty at the sight. 

“Glenn?” He started not being able to help himself, he knew that they would take care of her, her family was with her now, but he just needed someone to say it to his face. 

Glenn looked at him to speak, obviously trying not to look at Melody. 

“Take care of her for me, please? Make sure she’s okay?” He whispered, not used to saying something like that so openly, but he needed to hear Glenn say that he would do it. He trusted Glenn a lot more than he trusted some of the others. 

“I will.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He walked a long time, longer than Daryl would have normally, but he wasn’t -  _ couldn’t _ pay attention to his surroundings like he usually did. His head felt like it might explode, a sharp pain running through his entire body when he did so much as blinked, and his arms had gone numb a long time ago, carrying Melody on his hip. 

He caught himself turning back occasionally, a habit to check on Beth following after him - but she was never there. Only Gus’s steps followed his and they were too quiet, unsettling. 

“My head hurts,” Melody whimpered, playing mindlessly with his shirt collar. He whispered back that his did too. 

What was he even trying to find? A house? Who knew if he could even find one. He hadn’t been in the woods around Woodbury, he had no idea if there was anything close by besides the prison. He had no idea which direction he had set off in, and it was too cloudy to see the moon and keep track of it. 

“Where are we going?” Melody asked, and Daryl wondered the same thing, but she continued, “Why did those people leave with Beth?” 

“They’re taking her somewhere safe, so she can get better.” 

“Are we going there too?” 

Daryl hesitated, he didn’t like lying, but he nodded anyway. 

Melody was going to die, painfully and horribly, and Daryl felt like he didn’t have enough left in him to take it. He had pushed a lot of the shit he had seen in this world aside, not really phased - the looting and turning on each other in the beginning, the groups that took advantage of this to do nasty things - like the men in the woods - that would just take and take and not have a care in the world that nothing was ever going to go back to normal. 

This was going to be his breaking point, the moment that any shard of the person he had been before the world fell apart would die too. There was nothing good left in the world, not in his mind, because what kind of world was this if something so small and innocent didn’t have a chance? First Sophia, then Melody. There was no place for kids here, not anymore. 

He had never been religious, but he wondered what god would allow this to happen. To rot and amble the earth endlessly, to one day be put down by someone who looked at you in fear and disgust. 

No, God had abandoned them a long time ago - if he was even there. 

He found a barn eventually, and he was sure if he walked further into the woods he would find a house, but the barn worked just fine. A two-person swing creaked pitifully in the breeze, latched to a thick tree branch just near the barn. 

It would get them out of the rain that was coming and keep her warm enough to stay comfortable. For how long he didn’t know. There wasn’t really a frame of reference he had in his head for how long it took for the fever to kill someone. Andrea’s sister had died immediately and took all night to change. Jim took four days to die from the fever. Randall changed in an hour or two. 

He pulled a blanket out of his and Beth’s backpacks and settled it over her legs, handing over the bottle of water he had found at the bottom with it. She could have it. 

“Are we going where Bethie was going? With those other people?” Melody asked, picking at the hay with her fingers, he tried to ignore how much her hands shook. 

“We’ll go soon,” He lied again, ignoring the lump in his chest when he did, pushing the latch on the door shut. The wind howled against the wood and a few of the shutters slammed against the side. 

“Promise?” 

“Yeah,” he cleared his throat, “promise.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

No matter what he said or did, he couldn’t get her to go to sleep. He had exhausted any of the good memories he had during childhood and barely knew any fairy tales well enough to relay them to her. Though the rain had stopped after a few hours, it was too cloudy to tell her about the constellations, something he did with Beth to get her to go to sleep, though she usually asked a million questions before she did. 

He even sang when she asked, something he  _ never _ did. It was some random song his mother used to sing him, something about sunshine. He thought it worked for a minute, but her eyes popped back open before he could even finish the song. 

He got her to stay put long enough for him to venture out into the dawn to kill a squirrel and built a large enough fire to cook it, Melody complained a little, but her voice grew hoarse the more she spoke and she quickly threw up the small bits she had actually swallowed. He held her hair back while she did, patting her back. 

His parents had never comforted him while he was sick - neither had Merle, so he wasn’t sure what to do as she got sicker. 

By the end of the day, her skin was peeling and blotchy, and she shook from the fever that burned through her. She asked again if they were leaving soon, and he didn’t have time to respond before her eyes slid shut again. 

He didn’t sleep that night, leaned up against one of the larger bales of hay watching the door. Nothing was coming, they hadn’t seen a single walker on the way here - he was sure they were all in Woodbury. Melody sat in his lap, her head against his shoulder. He could feel her fever get worse through the layers of his shirt, sweat making her hair stick to her forehead. 

When she started getting antsy as the sun rose, jerking and shivering, he picked her up as gently as possible before heading out to the swing he had seen outside, taking the blanket with him to keep her wrapped up. He grabbed his hunting knife on the way out. 

So, they swung. 

She didn’t wake up when the sun rose, not really, stuck in a fever dream. And she didn’t open her eyes when she coughed up blood a few hours later onto his shoulder. Daryl hushed her while he pulled her hair back - he didn’t tell her it would be okay. He didn’t think she’d hear him anyway. 

It got to the point where she couldn’t hold her head up on her own, blood ran from her nose, and she didn’t cough anymore. It started to rain again, but the leaves on the trees kept them from getting the brunt of it. 

She stopped breathing a few minutes later, and he only noticed because she got cold in his arms. 

Gus let out a nasty whine, nudging his knee, and Daryl ignored him while he lay her down in the grass, making sure the blanket covered her. He hesitated when he reached for his hunting knife. 

_ You need to do it, she doesn’t deserve to end up like them.  _

It sounded a lot like something Beth would have said, but Daryl wasn’t sure if he could look at the little girl’s pale face and finish it. 

He reached up, his hand shaking, and adjusted the butterfly clips in her hair. He wondered how they had stayed through everything, but he was going to make sure they stayed now. 

He covered her face with the blanket and got it over with, turning back towards the barn before he could watch the blood seep into the blanket. 

He couldn’t find a shovel, not even a rake, so he bent down on his hands and knees next to her and dug her grave with his hands. The mud made it a bit easier, but his hands occasionally found a rock or a sharp piece of wood that caused his hands to bleed. Gus lay on the tarp next to her body, watching. 

He tried to get the hole deep enough so that nothing could dig her back up, and by the time he did his fingers were red with blood and his hands were cramping. The sun was setting and the air got colder around him as he did, and he tried not to wonder if Beth was awake yet. 

Gus let out a whine and Daryl stopped working to look at him, checking to make sure nothing had gotten too close - the dog usually whined when something was coming. 

But he was looking at the girl, paw outstretched, scratching at her hand. 

Daryl reached up enough to hit him on the leg, “Hey, cut it out!” 

He didn’t quit, scratching at the cold hand for pets. 

“Stop it, she’s dead!” 

There it was. The little girl who smiled more often than not and giggled as Daryl struggled to stick fake plastic stars onto a ceiling, who shared her snacks and tried her best to teach him ridiculous games only a kid could make up - was dead. Gus whined again, and before he could pull himself together his throat had closed up and his chest hurt - and he sat next to the empty grave and he cried. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He went somewhere for a while - he wasn’t sure where, but it was quiet and warm. When he came back he was lying on his back, staring up at the stars. Gus lay next to him, whimpering occasionally. 

He got back to work and when he finally got the last bit of dirt back into the grave, he sat with his back facing the stone he had laid at the top of the disturbed dirt. It wasn’t a tombstone and he couldn’t find any sticks big enough to make a shitty cross, but it was enough to say _ someone is here _ . 

His fingers stung and his head hurt - almost to the point where it didn’t hurt anymore, or else he had just gotten used to it.

A wet nose nudged his cheek and he pushed the dog away, 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He only slept for a few hours before he gathered everything, his and Beth’s bags, and ensured that Gus was with him before trekking back off into the woods. 

He didn’t look back at the little girl’s grave. He didn’t think that he could, he only wished that she wasn’t alone in the woods. Sophia had been buried next to other people - no one she knew, but she still wasn’t alone in the ground. Daryl wished Melody could have had that. 

He wandered until he found his own tracks, barely there in the mud, but easy enough to follow. He would go back to Woodbury and get to the prison from there, he wondered if he could sneak back in and grab a few things from their apartment - would it still be overrun?

It was nearly morning when he saw the walls of Woodbury through the cracks in the trees. When he got closer, no one stood guard, and the front gate stood wide open. It was deathly quiet, only the sounds of the morning woods following him as he crept through. A few walkers stumbled around, but he was quiet enough that they paid him no mind. 

He wasn’t sure what he was here to get, but he knew they had left some things in the apartment - though he didn’t remember what. He was running on fumes, kind of delirious at this point, but he kept going. 

A bright flash of pink to the left stopped him in his tracks, where a woman lay dead on the ground. Beth's bow was clenched in her hands, the quiver of matching arrows lying next to her. He pulled it from her hands without thinking, slinging it next to his own. He had noticed Beth's bow on the wall of the Governor's place and saw the way she looked at it, almost desperately. She would be happy to have it back, he was sure. 

When he made it back into their apartment, the building dark and abandoned, he found the door open and he stumbled through. A few of the windows were busted out from bullets and a lamp had somehow fallen off its table, twisted and bent. 

He went into the closet and grabbed a few extra sets of clothes for both of them, scanning the bathroom and bedroom for anything of importance before moving on to the living room. He tucked a few of the bigger kitchen knives into the front pocket of one of the backpacks and a box of granola bars that had been sitting on the counter. 

He did a final scan, making sure he had everything before heading towards the door and down the stairs, but something on the table in the living room caught his eye. 

Beth’s journal lay open on the living room table, forgotten. She didn’t write in it much, but when she did he could tell she felt better afterward. 

He swiped it up quickly, her handwriting was a lot messier than he would have pegged her for, loopy and small. 

He hadn’t planned on reading anything in it, because it was  _ hers _ and snooping around in someone’s personal shit was a childish thing to do - but his eyes caught a few sentences in the middle of the last entry and he pulled the book closer to his face before he could stop himself. 

The last entry had been the night they had dinner with the Governor. Daryl didn’t even know how long ago it was, four, five days? He had no idea anymore. 

** _Daryl is a whole different story. I can barely look him in the eye after realizing how I feel, and that is that I am in love with him. _ **

He didn’t know how long he sat there in the dark, reading over the sentence again and again. Because why did it  _ hurt _ ? 

Why did it hurt to see that written out? Why did it make his chest close up and make it hard for him to breathe? He had never had that said to him, or had he ever felt like someone  _ loved _ him; and not just liked or tolerated him. He didn’t deserve to have someone feel that way about him, not ever. 

She didn’t love him - not in the way she thought she did. He had kept her safe and fed for months while she got better and stronger, anyone would begin to like someone who did that for them - but she didn’t love him, she couldn’t. What was that weird mental illness called?  _ Stockholm Syndrome _ ? 

Beth had been stuck with him for months, having lost nearly her whole family and her home, anyone would have latched onto the closest person - and she was unlucky enough for it to be him. But she was back with her family now, Herschel and Maggie. She wouldn’t need him anymore, she wouldn’t  _ want _ him anymore - she would get over whatever crush or feeling this was and move on, maybe with someone that was her age and had more in common, and as long as she was happy and safe with the people she cared about Daryl didn’t care if he was left behind. 

He had done the right thing, taking care of her and helping her realize what the world was like now - he could have just left her in the woods or in the fields of the farm. He had done his good deed, and he  _ shouldn’t  _ have gotten attached but he did.

He got attached to her smile and her dumb jokes, the way her voice got quiet and high when she spoke to Gus and how her eyebrows scrunched while she was sleeping. He liked that she talked back to him and shut him down when he went too far - because there were very few people Daryl had met that had done that. He liked the way her shoulders were covered in freckles and the way her hair curled when it was wet. 

He had been stuck with her too - and he had let himself get too close. He had kissed her, for fuck’s sake - and he didn’t want to think about what that meant, hadn’t let himself think about what that meant. 

He had been so happy to see her, to know that she was safe and not dead, and it was something he did out of instinct, something in his chest that just reached out for her and latched on. 

And it nearly killed him because it felt good to kiss her, to hold her close and make sure she never left, it almost felt right - but Daryl knew that was his mind just trying to make up for his mistake. 

He didn’t want to think about what any of it meant because he had gone through it a million times in his head, he had ever since Beth got over the flu in the pharmacy - that he felt more comfortable when she was near him, that he didn’t mind her touching him -  _ wanted  _ for her to touch him, and that he actually actively tried to start a conversation with her, to know her better and get her to smile. 

_ Jesus, fuck, what are you doing?  _

And he couldn’t imagine dirtying  _ her _ with anything he had to offer - which was nothing. She was bright and sweet and  _ good _ , and she needed someone that was like that, not someone that would only drag her down. Maggie's venom outside Woodbury and her attitude towards Beth being stuck with him only confirmed how he felt, and he knew that he would want Beth to choose her family over him any day. 

He had gotten too comfortable with her and that was his fault. He was good at making sure people never got in, scaring them away before they tried because he just didn’t want to deal with them, but Beth had snuck her way in and he didn’t know how to get her out. 

He needed to fix it before she made a mistake. He wasn’t sure how, but he would do anything to make sure she ended up happy in the end, he didn’t care what happened to him. She would bounce back and find others, he was sure. Someone who loved and deserved her like she needed to be. And no matter how much Daryl wanted, he wouldn’t do it. He couldn’t do it to Beth. 

He would make sure she was okay, make sure she was settled, and then do it. 

She deserved a clean break, something quick and simple because she didn’t need him anymore and probably didn’t want a mess. He would keep how he felt to himself and maybe he could kill those feelings before they went too far, because he didn’t know if he could stand to watch someone else touch Beth like they were familiar with her and make her smile without wanting to just take off and leave everything - like he normally did. 

Beth deserved everything and more, and Daryl would make sure she got it, no matter what.


End file.
